


Freedom-Bound

by fireroasted



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/F, Fantasy, Multiple Selves, One Shot Collection, Story within a Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-30 10:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 65,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8528875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireroasted/pseuds/fireroasted
Summary: Hyejin and Wheein, failed singers and jaded millennials, try to run away from their old lives just to find some control over their lives. A unique Moonsun one-shot collection from Hwasa's POV.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In the spirit of the Arabian Nights, the Decameron, and history's many renditions of the one-shot idea, this collection features a frame story. 
> 
> As much as this story is about Moonsun, this is also very much a personal journey for Hwasa, and readers like Hwasa. 
> 
> This is a very ambitious project, so I must ask that my dear readers will bear with me. 
> 
> This story has also been cross-posted to AFF, where I have posted a status of my chapter progress. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This story will not have explicit sexual content (though the sex exists, so please feel free to use your imagination).

Dear reader, welcome to the mess that is my life. 

I hope you didn’t find yourself here because you wanted a happy, fluffy story, because I’m a jilted millennial kid and that’s not my style. In fact, maybe you should leave now before you get too invested. If you’re anything like me, you’ve probably realized by now that getting invested in the wrong kind of shit will only get you a slap in the face (courtesy of life). 

If you’re still here, well, I applaud your open masochism. Just don’t go expecting this to be the greatest story you’ve ever read (trust me, there’s no hidden dramatic irony here). I don’t even know if this has a happy ending or whatever, but it’s the only story I’ve got. I’m just a kid with a story to tell, and I’m still looking for the right words to tell it. 

A lot of weird shit happened to me (an understatement), but before I get to that, let me introduce myself. 

My name is Ahn Hyejin, and, you see, my life began to fall apart early. Really early. 

When I was young, everyone told me I was talented. That’s where it always begins. Gold stars for simply existing. Teachers, parents, adults who think they're changing the world one kid at a time (when, really, we all know they're just afraid of us). I had all these assholes coming up to me and saying things like, "Wah, Hyejinie, you sing like an angel! You're going to be so famous one day!" 

Who even fucking knows what angels sound like? I used to think they sounded like me. Then with all the praise and the accolades, I thought nah, I have a better range than them. I thought I was fucking better than angels. That's the kind of little shit I was. 

Then it went from being cute and amazing to being a waste of space. Just like that. Kids should get a warning when they're 12 years old. Something like: CAUTION - NOTHING YOU DO WILL EVER BE GOOD ENOUGH BEYOND THIS POINT. Especially not for a fat, wannabe idol. 

All of a sudden I'm supposed to follow a set of rules I was never given? Yeah, no. I wanted to sing. I was going to sing. I was going to light up a stage, and nothing could stop me. 

Until, of course, reality sank in. 

Even then, I never really did learn to keep my head down. Never found meaning in those magical percentages. Still haven't. All I did (all I could do in this system) was fail, fail, fail. I thought I would fight for my dream until my dying breath, but I didn’t expect them to try and clamp my mouth shut—stuff it down with things I could care less about. English, Korean, mathematics, history, and all that other bullshit pinned me down, hung over me like a ghost.

In my first year of middle school, I met a real angel. Jung Wheein. A kid with a loudass mouth and a cuteass dimple, and wasn't afraid of my attitude. Best of all, she saw right through me and saw what they were trying to do to me. 

"If you ever become famous one day, you better never lose that brightness you have now," she said to me one day with a mouth full of kimbap. "I'll kill you if you give up. Y'know what? You should just call yourself Hwasa so you don't forget. That will be your stage name." 

That was easy to say and easy to believe in when you're 13 years old. Then you're 14, 15. Then you're in fucking high school, where dreams go to die because you're tripping over letters and numbers every step of the way. 

I wanted so badly to believe I could be what Wheein saw in me. What I used to see in myself.

Wheein was so good at being that bright and shining star. Cute, bubbly, perfect body, perfect personality. Even when she was out drinking, smoking, dancing, making out with whoever wanted her in whatever club she could fake her way into, she was perfect. I just wanted to feel like I deserve her by my side. Crazy as she was (and still is), she means the world to me. 

I didn’t want to give up because she hadn’t given up yet.

But life had a different plan for me.

Sure. You can run away to Seoul once in a while and hope some creep at some big label notices you. You could, but life doesn’t come with guarantees. Sure, you can slog through. Fight the looks, and the hands, and the comments. Until you’re just another stupid girl with a stupid dream of singing on some stupid stage.

Then you realize, oh shit, it’s too late. I won’t make it into the business, and I sure as hell won't make it to a SKY university. Or any university, really, because what the fuck was the point? 

What was the point of school? The point of starving myself just to get noticed? What was the point of being Hwasa? None. There was no point. 

So…where does that leave us?

Well, sometimes all it takes is a simple question. 

“What now?” 

Two simple words, laced with the burden of tomorrow and the poison of reality.

I was standing out in a parking lot eating an ice cream bar. Wheein had just failed yet another audition, and we decided to cry together. I’d long given up auditions. Hwasa burnt out before she even came alive. I was only Hyejin, and I truly believed that she was all I ever will be. And Hyejin wasn’t anything like Hwasa. 

For one, Hwasa had promise. 

Hyejin, on the other hand, was already 19 years old. Hyejin was a drop-out, a chubby waitress with no dreams and no prospects. Every path before her had turned to dust by the time she was 16. Nowhere to go, she stayed put. She worked odd jobs here and there, and barely made ends meet. She’d fallen through the cracks and was happy to build her home in the fucking sewage. The passion she used to have burned low in her stomach, like a masochistic little voice telling her she still had hope.

Hope. Even though everyone knew she was a failure. 

The stares, the pitiful looks, the scornful smiles. 

She couldn’t hide. Even her best friend, her angel, knew.

She never said it, but she knew that Wheein had always known what a failure she was. She was just too nice to say it out loud.

But that’s enough third-person angst. None of it does us any good, does it? 

Back at the parking lot, I repeated my question to my shoes. "What now?" 

I remember her stopping in mid-attempt at opening her ice cream bar. She stared at me with those big round eyes, her hair falling perfectly against the light of the rotten yellow streetlights. She was really beautiful then. Her make-up was smudged and she looked tired as hell, but she was beautiful.

She didn’t say anything for a long time. Just stood, holding her ice cream gingerly in one hand, staring at me, at the dirty parking lot in front of us, at the murky night sky. Just stood there taking the world in. I could see the cogs turning in her head, but I couldn’t see the images she was painting with them. I waited, patiently eating my ice cream. 

Finally, she smiled her classic dimpled smile.

"Let's run away," she said. 

I didn’t hesitate. No, I must’ve smiled like a fool. “Okay.”

It was decided. The two of us just knew it was for real this time. As soon as we finished our ice cream, we pooled our savings and bought a used car. A crappy little Hyundai Pony with a coat of orange paint that screams "almost." Almost what, I don't know. Almost orange, almost adult, almost free. Just…almost. 

We had two bottles of water, an old map the guy at the dealership gave us, a pack of gum, and about ₩7000. Wheein also had an old guitar she stole from an ex. She wasn't exactly good, but it was enough to fake through the first round of auditions sometimes. Either way, we knew we would have to rely on our voices and try busking like they do in those foreign movies because, fuck, we would probably starve otherwise. 

That night, we went back to our shared little flat and stuffed our backpacks full of useless shit. Then we ordered chicken and spent the last hours in Seoul fucking around under the sheets, like we were testing our old skins for the last time. 

By early morning, we were ready to take our skinny souls back and punch some life into them. 

\--

On the highway out of Seoul is where my real story begins. What I'm about to tell you is the very real story of two young girls on a journey. Just two girls trying to retain some kind of control over their own lives. 

Again, easy to say; almost impossible to do. Except the journey turned out to be something impossible in itself. I don’t think anyone, not even the most put-together person in the world, would be able to prepare for the kind of journey we had. 

I could try to convince you everything that happened to me is the absolute truth. But I don't think you'd believe me. After everything that's happened, the last thing I care about is some random person reading this and thinking I'm twenty shades of crazy, drunk, and high. Well, take it as you will—it's a trip either way. 

It began innocuously enough. 

Wheein sat in the backseat, practicing her chords as I drove. 

We never decided where we wanted to go, and I had the feeling we aren't going to. Korea might be a small country, but we had the world ahead of us, and a hell of a past to leave behind. Sure, it only takes about 4 hours to cut across diagonally, but fuck that. We’d go in circles, zigzags, squares. Whatever it took to just keep running. 

"Hyejin, give me a song," Wheein said. I heard her voice right by my ear, so close I shivered a little. 

"'Love on Top'?" I was, for the first time in a long time, in a happy mood, and sick of ballads trying outmatch each other's sorrows. They always made me feel like I was drowning. I wanted to feel free. 

"Too hard. ‘Love the Way You Lie.'" She strummed the first few bars with ease. 

"That's fucking depressing," I said. I tried to keep a straight face, but it was too hard to resist grinning at her through the rear-view mirror. She paused to slap me on the shoulder, and I grinned even wider.

She poked her dimple and gave me a little aegyo. "Just kidding," she said, smiling like a happy pup. "Snap me in, Ahnyoncé." 

With one hand on the steering wheel, I was happy to comply. She stumbled with the chords until she gave up and strummed the same chord over and over, which just meant we were going to have to sing louder.

"Bring the beat in!" I cried.

"Honey, honey, I can see the stars all the way from here!" It was the first line, but fuck if we didn't start at the top of our lungs. Each line was our revolution, and each beat was a celebration of our newfound freedom. 

Our pronunciation sucked, and that was just our style. 

"BABY IT'S YOU! YOU'RE THE ONE I LOVE."

"YOU'RE THE ONE I NEED."

"YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE I SEE." 

"C'MON BABY IT'S YOU!" 

We exchanged a look through the rearview mirror, and we couldn’t help but feel our mouths go full-on Cheshire Cat. We just knew that we were singing this to each other, even if it lacked romance. No, Wheein fell in love easily, and I wasn’t about to be a name on a list. It was something so much bigger than that. Something no language could capture. 

The sun came up and cast a halo on Wheein’s black hair. 

At the end of the song, she put down the guitar and climbed into the front seat. 

"I'm hungry," she declared. 

I told her to shut up and go to sleep, and it wasn’t long before she did. Neither of us slept last night. 

The hum of the little Pony kept me company as I waded through traffic. Occasionally, I glanced over at Wheein, her cheeks squished against the doorframe as she quietly slept. There wasn't much to see. Outside, it was all grey walls and grey roads. Inside, it was all fear and uncertainty. In that quiet moment, I was reminded how much I needed to run away, even if I was running in circles. Inside, and outside. I was breathing and suffocating at the same time. 

I needed my angel. 

I reached over and weaved my hand into Wheein's curled fingers resting beside her thigh. She rustled, turned to me with a sleepy smile, and went back to sleep. 

I could write on and on about everything I felt in that moment. But I won't. I can't. Writing it down makes it all real as hell, and this story isn’t about that. It would just take too fucking long to make sense of that shit.

I’ll spare you for now, dear reader. 

So let's skip to the part when things began to take a weird turn. 

Less than two hours into our journey, on the long stretch of asphalt between Seoul and god knows where, we came up onto a hill. Like the cars before us, our Pony hurtled along the ascent, and curved along the summit. As we reached the peak, however, we noticed something. (Well, I didn’t notice at the time, but Wheein was freaking out before we even began to descend.) Green fields sat on both sides, and the grey road with the painted lines spread before us.

There were no cars. 

6am, and the roads were empty. Except, it wasn’t. 

A black van sat horizontally across the road, blocking two of my lanes, its hazard lights flashing warning after warning, but I was going at almost 100kph, and the van was too, too, too fucking close. 

Its black body nearly swallowed up my window. 

Wheein screamed. 

I screamed. 

We screamed with our eyes open because there was no time for words. 

Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I spun my steering wheel with all my strength. I must’ve missed it by only centimetres, because I felt the bump of the Pony grazing the metal sides. 

I swerved us to the right. 

We flew onto the green field. 

Bump, bump, BUMP went the little Pony. 

While I usually hated the way seat belts rubbed into my bare shoulders, I could kiss whoever invented them in that moment. 

Wheein stiffly turned to look at me, her knuckles almost as white as her face, clutching her seat belt. I probably didn't look any better. My hair felt limp with sweat as I tried to slow my breathing, bring my heart down from the ceiling, and maybe not pass out. 

When the terror and the freaking out passed, a different kind of apprehension crept over us. 

We looked out the window. Wheein gasped. I quietly swore under my breath. 

The field was no longer green, but a purplish blue. The sky was almost the same shade, but as deep as an oil slick. Despite that, it was oddly bright outside. In the distance, I saw hills and triangular trees, like paper cut-outs from a children’s book. 

“Where are we?” I couldn’t tell you who said it, but we were both definitely thinking the same thing. 

I climbed out of the Pony. “What the fuck?” Wheein breathed. A steady stream of expletives marched out of my mouth as I continued to look around. 

“This…scenery goes on for miles. What should we do, Hyejinie?” 

I ducked briefly back into the car to turn the key in the ignition. As expected, the old Pony had breathed its last. “Looks like we’re trapped in this picture book. Or maybe it’s a snow globe,” I said, casually running my hand through my hair. 

“Walk?” Wheein asked. I shrugged. 

Wheein went to the back to retrieve our backpacks and the beaten-up guitar case. Her eyes were still wide from the shock as she handed me my bag, but I saw my eyes through the reflection of her pupils, and I was just as fucked up. 

We looked behind us. The road, the van, everything that was familiar was suddenly gone. It was the same purple and blue swirls for endless miles in every direction. I say swirls because I didn’t really know what we were standing on. It definitely wasn’t grass. Maybe vapour. Like clouds. Nothing looked earthly anymore. 

Then, all of a sudden, we heard a strange hum, like a broken incandescent bulb.

A line of light appeared out of nowhere, and, as if trying to cut through space and time itself, struggled to pull apart from itself like a splitting cell. We could only stand and gape as the line of light eventually stretched itself into a rectangular portal. All we could see from where we stood was a long red-carpeted hallway. 

“Endlessly weird hills, or random sketchy portal?” I asked. 

Wheein placed a finger to her lip in thought. “Neither, but I’m hungry and I don’t want to walk, so probably the sketchy portal.” 

So we stepped inside. We didn’t have much to lose, after all. 

The hall was warm and comfortable, the yellow lights washing over us like a dream. The portal behind us disappeared, replaced by a large wooden door. There were doors on either side of the halls, and it looked endless. Endless doors in an endless hallway. Each door had a symbol carved out. I threw my backpack to the floor, and reached out to touch the symbol closest to me. 

Suddenly. 

“Welcome!” I snatched my hand back, and spun around. 

A woman with faded lines running through her like a hologram appeared out of nowhere with her arms open wide. I expected her to walk closer, but I supposed that this was not a world that made sense. Instead of walking, she leapt forward, hovered briefly in the air like Peter Pan, and drifted down before us. 

She was handsome. Black suit, red tie, white gloves on each hand. Her hair was neatly parted, and neatly pulled into a ponytail. I could see hearts coming out of Wheein’s eyes before I even turned to look. Did I already mention Wheein falls in love easily? And this handsome, beautiful hologram was just her type.

“Welcome,” the stranger said again, “I hope your journey here has not been too unpleasant?” 

Was a near-death experience considered unpleasant? I bit my tongue.

I looked at Wheein, expecting her to ask the questions, but sure enough she was too enamoured by the beautiful stranger. I sighed. “Where are we?” I asked. “What did you do to us?” I threw several more questions in her face, but she seemed too shocked by my first question to react. 

(Honestly, for a relatively powerful being, she was a bit of a space case, as you will see.)

She fidgeted, and cleared her throat several times. “Ah! Yes, you will have many questions. I apologize in advance for any confusion I may have caused. This is my first time summoning humans into my realm, so please bear with me as I explain.” She looked at us like a lost puppy. Wheein giggled as I waved for her to continue.

“A-Allow me to start from the beginning,” she said. “You are in what you humans might call the spirit realm. This is essentially the space between life and the afterlife.”

“What do you mean?” Wheein asked. I hadn’t expected her to snap out of her stupor so quickly. “Are we dead?”

“Oh no!” Byulyi bowed deeply. “I have simply borrowed your spirits. Your bodies are safely in your universe. Time works differently here, so your bodies will be fine.”

Wheein and I exchanged a skeptical look. 

I crossed my arms. “Okay, so we’re supposed to just trust you on that. Who even are you?”

“Oh! I’m sorry! How could I have been so rude?” She bowed several times before proceeding, earning a lip-biting smile from Wheein. “My name is Moon Byulyi. You see, I am the Master Spirit of many different Moon Byulyis throughout history.”

Seeing our deadpanned expressions, her eyes darted around nervously, but did not wait for our permission to continue this time. “A-allow me to explain who I am, and what I do before I tell you why I have brought you here. I hope you are not in a hurry? This could take a while. You may find all of this a bit overwhelming. I hope that all of this will make sense later.” 

We nodded as if we weren’t trapped in this hallway, as if we could walk back to our old lives right now. 

Byulyi cleared her throat, and looked around nervously. “I-I guess you can say that I’m the main progenitor for souls, specifically my souls. My soul ebbs off into human vessels that hold my spirit. Humans think that their soul is a unique thing, but they belong to a Master Spirit. Once a human dies, a part of the Master Spirit’s energy breaks up and is sent into the afterlife where it is put into a new body. When this new body is born, a new spirit is born. In my case, a new Moon Byulyi.” 

I furrowed my brows. I did not ask for this lecture, but we had nowhere else to go, so we suspended disbelief and indulged the random spirit. And I guess Wheein’s open fixation with Byulyi and her story was worth staying for. 

“Spirits and souls aren’t the same thing?” I said, feigning casual interest. In reality, I was thinking a lot about divine intervention. Wheein was twirling a strand of her hair, biting her lower lip. Either she was trying to seduce the spirit lady, or she was trying to take it all in in her own weird way. 

Byulyi blinked. “No, of course not. Spirit is the individual energy inside of each person. I guess you can say it is like your aura? Though that is not entirely accurate either. Souls are closer to the energy between the spirit realm and the human realms. It is the essential connections of souls that allow me to survive. Perhaps you can say it is like my life essence.”

I shook my head and waved my hand around to ask for a time-out. “Let me get this straight. So in the spiritual life of a Moon Byulyi… Er, when they’re born, a part of you goes into their body? And that’s basically…a part of you. The soul.”

“Yes, what humans have termed human nature are merely traits that we Master Spirits have. That is what we call our soul.” 

“Okay…so when the person takes your soul, the soul becomes a spirit.” 

“Yes, they harness the energy from our soul for their own individual development.” 

“But you need this to happen.”

“Correct. Because the soul and the spirit are connected.”

“So what happens when a person dies?”

“Her spirit movies into the afterlife. We have no control over it, as one’s spirit belongs to oneself entirely.”

“So—”

Wheein cut me off, excitement shivering in her voice as if she’d figured it all out. “So…you don’t live forever,” she said. “You have no input.” That’s when I realized that she’d been silently playing with her hair the entire time Byulyi and I were talking. She continued to chew on her lower lip as her eyes fixed themselves on the Master Spirit, but it didn’t seem as sexy now. Not with her brows furrowed like that. 

The Master Spirit shook her head. “We don’t. We hold a finite amount of energy. Each spirit that is created, each person who is reborn, is only same to a certain degree. Nurture plays a much bigger role in shaping a person’s future, therefore each instance of Byulyi can be unique.”

“Do we have Master Spirits?” Wheein asked with a cute little pout. I smiled, but Byulyi was too busy staring at her own gloves.

“In a different realm,” she replied. “Each realm is home to only two Master Spirits. We are the phenomenon which you humans call ‘soul mates’.”

“Moldy hills and red halls are not really what comes to mind when I think about soul mates. It’s pretty fucking unromantic,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek. “Where’s your soul mate, Byulyisshi?”

At this, she dropped her hands behind her back and looked down at her shiny Oxfords. 

“That is why I brought you here,” she said with a tinge of sadness. “Something has gone wrong. All of the active Moon Byulyis across all universes at the moment have been failing to connect with their soul mate. I told you I run on connections between soul and spirit in order to survive. Well, it’s a little more complicated than that when soul mates are involved.”

I tried to mentally prepare myself for another lecture on the order of the universe, but my eyes kept glazing over, and I could tell Wheein was falling asleep too. To my surprise, Byulyi did not go into a lecture. In fact, her words kind of floated up into the air after mentioning her soul mate, like she had an obligation to give us this information, but her mind was far, far away. 

Then her shoulders slumped, though her feet hovered just off the ground. She heaved a sigh. That strange, awkward soul-spirit-thing had such a torn expression I had no words to describe it. I don’t think any words could do justice to her tragic eyes. “I just…can’t find her if I cannot sense her energy, and…I miss her. I am…afraid that if her spirits do not find mine, she will disappear.” 

Well, what can you even say to that? I suspected that she wanted us to volunteer ourselves to find this missing soul mate, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to give myself up for some ghost I just met. But I thought about Wheein. If she was my soul mate, I would do anything to get her back.

That alone was making me emotional, and I didn’t want to start getting emotional in front of Wheein.

I thought I’d try to get Byulyi’s mind off her missing friend for a moment. 

I nodded as solemnly as I could and, in my smoothest voice, said, “So tell me about these universes and this whole energy thing.” I tried to feign a sense of disinterest by looking around. Wheein had crouched down on the hallway carpet, head thrown back against the wall, watching our exchange. I didn’t miss the eye roll she gave me. 

Byulyi smiled patiently, her holographic eyes still heavy. “Yes. There are many universes, and they run across each realm. Think of, perhaps, a train station. Each parallel track is a universe that crosses realms like it does stations. Realms and universes, however, are not connected. Realms exist like a fog. We are present across all universes, but, at the same time, we are not. 

As for energy, we are not unlike humans, where we must consume energy in order to stay alive and continue producing spirits. Our source of energy comes from our spirits and our soul mate. Without my soul mate, we cannot sustain each other for long, and without the connection between spirits, I cannot see Yongsun. Even her presence in the realm eludes me right now…” 

She tugged at her cuffs out of awkward embarrassment. Her pink cheeks and shy, but sorrowful, smile as she thought of her soul mate. If Byulyi was an ordinary human being, I was almost certain that I’d be able to hear Wheein’s heart burst into pieces by now. 

Except Wheein looked fine. Her head was raised, her eyes focused on the spirit, her brows furrowed in thought. She was serious. It was fucking weird. “This is a lot to take in,” she said in a tone I hadn’t heard in a long time. “I mean, you just told us the secrets of the universe.” She tucked one leg under the other, like she was pretending she was perfectly chill about everything so far. 

Byulyi chuckled. “Not even I can know the intricate details of every universe. I just happen to know 5% more than you humans do.” 

Wheein looked at me, and tilted her head as if asking me to make the decision. What? I tried to say with my eyes. What do you want me to say? She sighed and, suddenly finding our discarded luggage beside her very interesting, looked away. 

I shrugged. I was too tired to decode her usual weirdness, so I turned back to the hovering spirit. “I’m just pretending everything is real here…are you asking us to help you hook up your babies?” I asked.

The spirit chewed her lip. “I suppose that would be accurate.” 

“How exactly would that help you find your soul mate?” Wheein asked, rubbing her eyes. I nudged her a little with my foot to try and tell her that she wasn’t listening. She looked up and stuck her tongue out at me. I smiled, glad our little moment of awkwardness wasn’t going to get in the way. 

Thankfully, Byulyi didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if she was paying attention to us at all. She’d been staring at her hands or at the wall or at one of the many doors whenever we weren’t talking to her.

She said, “We live in this world together and we share the same energy source. Like I said, when one of us expires, so will the other. However, our energy revolves around our spirits being able to connect. If they do not connect, our energy weakens. Our connections are so poor right now that I can’t even sense her, much less see her.” 

“How many Byulyis do I have to hook up?” I said. 

“All of them. My energy is spread too thinly right now across the universes. Every active pair currently has a nonexistent or weak bond. For example, they might be aware of each other’s existence, but not of their significance. Normally, at least one couple has a deeply establish relationship, but one instance of Byulyi expired early after a car crash 20 years ago. Ah, I digress. In short, I need your help to connect every instance of Yongsun to every instance of Byulyi.”

Wheein quirked her eyebrow. “How?”

Byulyi blushed. “Simple. They must fall in love. Love is the simplest explanation for the energy that sustains us.” 

Wheein opened her mouth, but I cut her off, earning a weak glare from her. “What the fuck? We have to play matchmakers?” I said. Wheein rolled her eyes, and picked at the carpet beneath her legs. 

Byulyi began fumbling with her cuffs again. “Not all spirit realms are love-based but o-ours is.” 

“Okay, so this is all well and nice, but why us?” Wheein asked. 

“As a Master Spirit, I cannot leave the realm or interfere. This is the only time we summon humans to our aid. I have picked you specifically because you two reappear the most often in our, Yongsun’s and mine, lifetimes. It would take an incredible amount of energy to send you through the portals without those connections.”

“And what happens when we go through these portals?”

“You will likely end up in the body of an instance of yourself. The Ahn Hyejin and the Jung Wheein of whatever world you are in.”

“Trippy,” I mumbled. I nudged Wheein again with my foot. “What better way to run away, Wheenie? Wouldn’t this be so much more exciting than a boring, old roadtrip?” 

Wheein shrugged, oddly demure. 

“You will help me then?” Byulyi said. 

Wheein stood up then, and laid her head against the wall. “So,” she began, “we just have to go through each of these doors, hook up some spirit, revive the great lost love, then we’ll get to go home? If we fail, then we’ve killed both you and your bae. Sound about right?”

“Yongsun is not dead,” Byulyi corrected with a frown. “She is somewhere in this realm. I just can’t see her.”

Now that I had all this information hanging over my head, I needed to address more immediate problems. Simultaneously, I needed to run away from this responsibility for a while.

“Byulyisshi,” I said. “Let us think about it when we’re a little less hungry and tired.” 

The moment I said hungry and tired, I felt my words settle into reality. We hadn’t eaten for hours. It must’ve been almost 10am, but neither of us could say. 

“Ah! Of course.” She snapped a finger and a new door materialized beside us, a crystalline shade of fractured blue and pink decorated the glass door. It looked like an attempt at a mosaic, but it was a far cry from any picture I’d ever seen. 

Byulyi went over and pushed it open, revealing a luxurious room with a large, plush, four-poster bed. The décor was modern and simple. A couch on the side, a table, chairs, and a wardrobe. An alcove at the edge hinted that we even had our own private bathroom. Probably. I barely noticed anything in the room after I caught sight of the feast was laid out for us on the dining table. 

“Please rest. If you cannot finish the food, do not worry. It will not go bad. If you need anything else, just ask. I will return in roughly 10 hours for your reply.” 

Then, poof! She was gone. 

I ran to the table so quickly, I’d forgotten when I’d even started moving. I picked up a perfectly fried piece of chicken between my fingers, and admired the way the layer of brown glistened in the light. But something wasn’t right. 

I stopped, and looked behind me. 

Wheein was at the door, propped against the frame, eyes heavy with fatigue. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked. 

She shook her head and gestured to the room. “Everything. None of this feels right.” 

“Aren’t you hungry?”

She looked at me with something indiscernible in her eyes. “Aren’t you worried?” she asked. 

“About what?” 

“Don’t you think this is too good to be true?” 

I walked over, two pieces of chicken in hand. I held a piece up to her face, beckoning her to admire the perfect sheen as I had. “What do you think?” I asked. Her bottom lip twitched. She clutched her stomach. “What choice do we have?”

She gently pushed me back. “What if this is a trap?” She said quietly. “We could be stuck here.”

I let my arms hang limp, the chicken forgotten as reality slapped me in the face. A surge of anger welled up inside of me as I prepared to fight back. I didn’t want to take it out on Wheein, but she was too close. “Would that be so bad?” I said. I didn’t know what kind of expression I was wearing—I could only hope I didn’t look as angry as I suddenly felt.

Wheein was unfazed. 

I continued through grit teeth. “There’s nothing for me back there.” 

Long moments passed as we stared each other down.

I hated when she got like this. Eyes cold, face frozen. I could never tell what she was thinking, and it always made me angrier. “Say something!” I barked. I wanted her to tell me I was right. That I was a loser, and I had nothing. I wanted her to stop looking at me like I was the loneliest girl on the planet. 

She took a step forward, and gently pried the piece of chicken from my right hand. She came close, and gave me a quick peck on the lips. It tasted like resignation. 

“Hwasa,” she said, holding the chicken up to eye level, “if this is what you want, I will do it with you. You know I don’t care where I am as long as I’m with you, but I can’t help you more than that. There’s nothing more I can say that hasn’t already been said.” 

“Fuck you, Wheein. Don’t call me that.” That name always hit a nerve. I knew she knew that. And whenever it came up, we both knew where the argument had gone. It wasn’t about being trapped in the spirit realm. Wasn’t about Byulyi. Everything else was irrelevant.

It was about us. Me. 

It always came back to me and Hwasa. Me and Wheein. Wheein and Hwasa. 

“Hwasa.” She glared.

“Fuck you.” I glared back as hard as I could.

“It’s who you are.”

“Fuck you, Wheein, stop it!” 

“No, you stop. Fuck you, Hyejin.” She poked me hard in the chest with her free hand, eyes sharp enough to cut right through my heart. “Stop fighting yourself, for fuck’s sakes.”

We ate the chicken, of course. Partly out of spite, partly out of hunger. 

We sat there eating angrily, glaring angrily at each other. We showered angrily, and had angry sex from the shower to the bed. I probably slept angrily too, but I was too tired at that point. 

When I awoke, all I felt was resignation and bruising. When I looked over, Wheein was an angel again. Her hair fell over her closed eyes. Her mouth slightly agape as she breathed steadily. None of the aggression that left me aching. 

I laid back and stared at the ceiling, thinking about Hwasa as I drifted back to sleep a second time.

When Byulyi came in to wake us, I felt like I was ready. But just in case, I had to ask. 

“If we don’t help you…what will happen to us?”

Byulyi shrugged, flickering a little as she did. “Under normal circumstances, I can send you back to where you were, and you will forget everything that has happened.” 

Back, I thought, back to what? Our four hour road trip across the country? Driving and busking and trying to run away and start over with ₩7000? And the alternative? Some trippy spiritual quest for some sexy spirit? 

I looked at Wheein for help, but she only pretended to sleep. 

“Fuck it,” I said, gently brushing back Wheein’s hair. “If we’re running away, might as well do it where there’s room service.”

Byulyi sighed in relief, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Thank goodness,” she said, “because I don’t think I have enough energy to send you back.”


	2. The First Door

THE FIRST DOOR

“I’m still sleepy,” Wheein grumbled as we followed Byulyi back into the red-carpeted corridor. “Why’d you have to get so angry at me? You’re so aggressive when you’re angry. I’m pretty sure I’m still feeling your teeth in like ten different places.”

I clamped a hand over my eyes, hoping she wouldn’t guess how hard I was rolling them. Hoping she wouldn’t see me smile.

“You pissed me off first.”

“I hate you sometimes,” she said with a cute little growl.

I scoffed. “I know,” I said coolly.

“Shut up.”

“Whatever.”

“Hyejin-ah!”

(I wouldn’t be surprised if I pick fights just to get a rise out of a tiny, sleepy, angry Wheein.)

We were still fighting by the time we reached the double doors where we had entered the day before. Byulyi, who had been deep in thought, stopped abruptly at the first door. I didn’t even notice until I walked right through her and she flickered in response.

“We are here,” Byulyi said quietly.

“Are you okay?” Wheein asked. “You look a bit fuzzier than usual.”

This was true. The Byulyi we met yesterday was dressed impeccably in a suit, every inch the dapper high-def hologram she seemed to be. In front of us, the same figure in a crisp black suit was beginning to fade. Her blonde hair had been dusted grey in the ten hours that we hadn’t seen her, and her cheeks were hollowed out with the palest shades on the spectrum.

She simply smiled like she was trying to hide the fear in her flickering eyes. “You are correct. I am losing grip on my ability to appear before you. A few new connections may fix this, but truth be told, I cannot predict what will happen once you step through these doors.” She gestured to the red door before us. “This is one of the universes I need you to explore. I will try my best to aid you, but as I have said before, I cannot communicate with you once you exit the spirit realm.”

“You can manipulate traffic but you can’t tell us what’s going on?” I cried. Wheein took my arm and stroked it softly.

“That is not something I can do often,” Byulyi said with a sad smile. “In fact, what I did yesterday is the likeliest cause for my rapid deterioration. I must preserve my energy in order to pull your spirits out, or else you may not be able to come back unless you can successfully help me forge a connection with Yongsun in time. That can be a very dangerous situation to be in.”

“So you can’t even tell us where we’re going?”

“We could be falling from a fucking building when we arrive and we wouldn’t even know?”

Byulyi shook her head, so somber not a single bang was out of place afterward.

“The chicken you gave us made me think you were a goddess or something,” I said, looking down at my nails like I was tough shit, “now I’m not so sure.”

Byulyi smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I am pleased to have dispelled the illusion early. You would have been sorely disappointed otherwise. Now, let us not waste any more time.” She gestured once again to the red door. 

Wheein stepped up and ran her fingers over the mustache engraved on the wood. The white mustache and its white frame seemed to pop out of the red door like a plaque. I dimly wondered what it could mean.

Fortunately, Wheein seemed to read my mind. “What does this mean?” She asked.

“Simply a representation of the universes beyond. It is not easy trying to capture worlds with in one picture, but I do appreciate the art of trying,” Byulyi replied with a little bow.

(I never quite figured it out, even in retrospect. I’ve thought about these symbols on the doors from time to time, but they still don’t really make a lot of sense to me. Maybe I’m missing some sort of significance embodied in cartoon facial hair. Hopefully you, dear reader, can piece it together.)

Wheein held the brass doorknob, but did not move to turn it.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“What if we get separated?” she said, staring hard at her fingers on the flecked metal. “What if I don’t know you anymore after we step through?”

“ _That’s_ what you’re worried about? After all the possibilities that this could go very, very wrong. You’re worried you won’t see me?” I hadn’t meant to sound condescending, but I did not miss the hurt flickering across her face.

“I’m serious, Hyejin.”

I sighed, and through an arm across her shoulders. “Just do what you always do,” I said, forcing a smile, “live your life, fall in love, take care of yourself. Remember to eat.” I reached out with my free hand and gently plucked each of her fingers off the door, and replaced it with my own. “I’ll be close by. We’ll find each other eventually.”

I took a deep breath, and looked into her deep, watery eyes.

There was no more use for words then, though her words bounced around inside my head, poking holes in every thought. I didn’t want to think about a world where we never meet, or one where we were simply too different to be friends. I didn’t want her to know that I wasn’t entirely convinced what I said was true. We might never find each other. Not in the same way that we found each other.

The door opened with a squeak, and bathed us in a flood of white light.

\---

“Hyejin! Wake up! What the fuck is wrong with you, falling asleep now of all times?”

The rough voice pounding through my eardrums was the first thing I heard. I couldn’t tell if the voice was worried or angry, but the bruising that came with each sentence was not fun to wake up to. Before I even opened my eyes, I shoved the person away. “Go away,” I mumbled in perfect English.

English!

My eyes flew open to meet the eyes of a very angry woman.

Moon Byulyi, in the flesh. She browned face was caked in god-knows-what, and an angry scar ran down her cheek. She must’ve seen better days, but her rolled up shirtsleeves and neatly ironed pants made her look like the mirror image of her Master Spirit, with the exception of her long, straight, jet-black hair and the cold, piercing eyes.

God, this girl has seen some shit.

“We have to move,” she said firmly. In English.

I nodded and pushed myself up from my slumped seating position on the floor, and holy shit I had never ached so badly in its life. I didn’t know then what a shitstorm I had walked into, but I felt like this body must’ve just run about a thousand laps around a stadium and head-butted a thousand walls for fun. I don’t know what happened to the old Hyejin, but I was not having it.

Unfortunately, Byulyi didn’t look like she wanted to stay for the temper tantrum I was about to have.

As it turned out, running a thousand laps around a stadium would’ve been a hundred times better than the scene I was thrown into.

Fuck, there was so much blood. So many bodies. Yet I was alive. I looked down at my bloodstained hands, and heard my heart pound in my ears. I shook as I looked around the room.

All around me were men in black hunched over, lying down. Black masks covered their faces, but the pools of blood told me they weren’t going to get up anytime soon. There must’ve been at least twenty guys in this grey, empty concrete room.

In the middle of it all stood Moon Byulyi, tall and poised, glaring in my direction. I felt so cold when I met her eyes. It wasn’t the room, not even with all the dead bodies. No, nothing sent shivers down my spine like Byulyi did then. I bit the screams down and swallowed them.

I followed Byulyi up endless flights of stairs in a grey concrete building, hobbling all the way. Black patches and crumbling holes in the infrastructure told me the almost-certainly-abandoned building must’ve survived a fire. I didn’t think too much then, as every cell in my body was trying to tell me to stop and lie down, but Byulyi turned back every few seconds to make sure I was following. She had a silver handgun in her hand, and I wasn’t about to mess with that.

I bent over to take a breath.

“This is why you can’t skip leg day,” Byulyi said with a scoff.

I looked down for a moment, and _damn_ I was fit as hell. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my calves so three-dimensional. I wanted to lift my shirt up to see if I had abs, but a) I was wearing an extremely heavy bullet proof vest, and b) I really didn’t want Byulyi to think I was weird. She did not come off as someone who would overlook the slightest whiff of bullshit. I shivered to think what would happen to me if I accidentally broke character.

But that was the problem.  

What _was_ my character (besides being damn fine)? I had no context, no idea where I was, who I was supposed to be. I couldn’t even figure out why I was thinking in Korean and speaking in English.

“What happened to me?” I asked, hoping it would be appropriate if I sounded as groggy as possible.

“What, you don’t feel it?” Byulyi turned with a raised brow.

“Feel what?”

She slowed down to a stop.

She pointed to my right leg. “One of those assholes shot you.”

I simply nodded as I kept my eyes forward, resisting the urge to look at the wound (I would probably have fainted again).

But you might be thinking, dear reader, how the fuck do you not notice a bullet wound?

Well let me take this moment to tell you a little bit about cross-dimensional travelling and jumping into the body of a wounded soldier after a crazy gunfight with no context: it’s not fun. It’s vomit-inducing. Colours explode behind your eyes, and you’re test driving a whole new set of physics and instincts. Think drunk girl at a party, then multiply by five and add the fact that you’ve just stolen somebody’s life. All you’re left with is just sensory overload. A gunshot wound, by comparison, isn’t so bad.

(I do not recommend this to anyone. Seriously.)

Once I’d realized that my thigh wasn’t just dripping with sweat (but more blood than I’d probably ever lost in my life), everything hit me. The searing pain exploded through my leg and coursed through my body, knocking the strength right out of my knees. I clutched my rusty rail beside me instinctively as I tripped up the stairs.

I must’ve blacked out for just a moment, or I would’ve anyway, if Byulyi didn’t clutch my arm and tug me up the stairs.  

“Hurry up. We don’t have much time,” she said with a grunt. “We have to move our target before they find us. We’ll get you patched up soon, so stop fainting.”

I understood why I had almost no control over my body, despite the billion push-ups I must’ve done in my past life. What didn’t make a lot of sense was why Byulyi was dragging me up ten flights of stairs knowing I was injured. We must be in a hurry, or she must be a bitch, I thought. Turned out, it was both.

While I was too scared to actually say anything, I wasn’t totally chill about this whole situation of running away with some scary, aggressive, stone-cold lady. In my mind there were two options here: we were either elite secret spies, or we were criminals. Nevertheless, we were being hunted, and there is a very real chance that we were going to die. At least, I was going to die. I must’ve lost a litre of blood, so if anyone was going to die, it was definitely going to be me.

When we finally stopped on what must’ve been the second last floor, Byulyi reached into her pocket and pulled out a second gun, a small black one, like all the ones they use in movies. She held it by the barrel and handed it to me. “You dropped this earlier,” she said.

I turned up the volume on my internal screaming.

Without warning, Byulyi kicked down the flimsy wooden door before us, gun forward, primed to shoot. She was clearly a professional. I copied her stance, and hoped to God I wouldn’t have to shoot. (In retrospect, I’m pretty sure my safety was on the entire time.)

“Watch the door,” she told me gruffly. I walked backwards, gun pointed at our entrance, sweating like crazy because I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing at all. 

In a big, square, concrete room adjacent to the entrance, we slowed down and lowered our weapons. There was nothing in this room, just like every other room in this building, not even a fourth wall, except for an old, plush armchair. And a girl. Tied to the chair. Blindfolded. Her head was slumped to one side. I must’ve gasped, because Byulyi pointed her gun at me so fast, I probably wouldn’t even have noticed if I died.

“Are you serious?” She said, rolling her eyes. “Get a grip, Hyejin. I don’t have time for this.”

I bit the apology down, and cleared my throat. 

She glanced down at her watch. A silver Rolex that caught the glint of moonlight through the missing wall. “Wheein should be meeting us on the roof in five minutes,” she said, taking a quick glance out the window. “Hm. That’s weird. I don’t hear the chopper. Fuck, don’t tell me…”

She swore under her breath for about a full minute before she finally turned to me and said, “Watch the door, watch the girl. If she wakes up, knock her out. Make sure she stays quiet. I’m going to make a fucking phone call.”

Byulyi stormed over to the edge of the missing wall, and paced back and forth on the outer edge. I checked the girl’s pulse and examined for any injuries. Strangely enough, the rope was not tight, and the girl didn’t have so much as a bruise. Her pale skin was pristine. Not even a single strand of hair seemed to be swept the wrong way.

Meanwhile, I thought about Wheein. Dread. Oh god there was so much dread.

“Where the fuck are you?” Byulyi shouted. I could almost see the steam spilling out of her ears when she walked by the ruined parts of the wall. “What do you mean you’re in the fucking hanger? Get your ass here _now_. What? Are you fucking kidding me? The old building on Fourth. How the hell could you not know where we were? Fuck, you know what? I don’t have time for this. Be here in ten minutes. No, we are not fucking okay. Be here before they find us, or Hyejin fucking bleeds out.”

(She was so angry that she had, in fact, neglected to give any real directions to Wheein.)

She came in from the outer ledge a few minutes later, running a hand through her hair, and looking like hell. “Fuck, I need a cigarette,” she mumbled. “How’s Yongsun?”

I glanced over to the sleeping brunette, my jaw slowly dropping as I slowly grasped the situation. “She’s fine,” I managed to croak. This was a hell of a game the universe was playing.

Byulyi dropped to her knee and gingerly tucked Yongsun’s hair behind her ear. It was such a, dare I say, caring gesture. We were running from people trying to kill us, and we have a hostage. A hostage that Byulyi seemed to care about, but had no qualms about telling me to knock her out. None of this made a hell lot of sense, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased with this development. At least we didn’t have to scour the earth for Yongsun.

But I didn’t dwell on Yongsun for long. The thought of Wheein piloting a chopper made my stomach churn. Back in our simple, little life, I never, ever let Wheein drove. It was like giving a puppy a jet pack. She wasn’t a bad driver, per se, but she was strangely, and vehemently, allergic to many things (including but not limited to signalling, the lines on the road, the brakes, etc.) and anyone who rode with her instantly became religious for the duration of the ride.  

Now imagine Wheein in a chopper. Told that I was about to bleed out and die.

I sat down on the ground against the wall trying not to think about Wheein and the fact that my body felt like it was being torn apart in a million little places. Closing my eyes, I tried my best to conjure up a happier place, but all I could think about was the feast I had yesterday and how I wished I could go back and redo the whole night without the anger. What the fuck was I even mad about?

I was still pondering this question when I caught the movement of Yongsun’s head in my peripheral.

“W-where...”

The sound of heavy footsteps reverberated through the empty room as Byulyi hurried back into the room, brows furrowed, mouth set deep in a frown. (I didn’t even noticed she had left.) She briefly shot me a look and walked over to the girl, and brought the silver gun to her head. “Don’t move,” she said in a low voice. “Stay quiet.”

“Byulie?” the girl said incredulously, turning her head as if she was trying to look for gaps in her blindfold. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in her voice. “You’re alive?”

 Byulyi’s no-fucks-given attitude crumbled into a demure, barely audible, “Yes.” She withdrew her gun and looked at her cuffs, looking every bit like her alpha copy in the spirit world.

Yongsun smiled, revealing two dimples on either side of her chin. “I’m glad.”

She didn’t ask why she was tied up. Didn’t ask where we were. Didn’t say anything more. She sat quietly as she was told until the silence spread over us. It didn’t take long for the silence to begin eating away at Byulyi. She paced and she leaned. She crossed her arms and drummed her fingers. She even left the room and came back. Finally, she marched up to Yongsun again and tore off the blindfold.

Yongsun’s big, round eyes blinked as she quickly adjusted to the dim, moonlit room. They flittered about until they found Byulyi, then curved up into crescents as she grinned. “You saved me, didn’t you?” she said, her bound arms waiting patiently beneath the rope.

Byulyi ran her hand through her hair again and scoffed. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

The moon and the stars caught Yongsun’s hair, and holy shit she looked ethereal. Bound to a chair without the slightest sign of discomfort. She owned that chair, owned this room, simply by sitting still. I knew I would've tried to tear through the ropes and roar like a lion, but she just sat there and smiled at Byulyi like she was the greatest thing that ever happened to her.

 

"Will you untie me, Byul?" She asked with a slight tilt of her head. "Let me take a look at Hyejin. She looks like she's about to pass out. I promise I won’t run away. Not when I’m finally with you again."

 

From my seated position, I could only see a part of Byulyi’s side profile, and it was as pink as a ripe cherry. The girl was absolutely captivated. Without a word she bent down and untied her. Yongsun held up a hand and Byulyi took it like she was her queen.

 

But the moment quickly passed. Remembering herself, Byulyi shook the lovesick schoolgirl out of her head and, with a whip of the gun, the cold loveless killer returned. She jabbed the gun into Yongsun’s back. “Don’t try anything,” she mumbled. Yongsun flinched and nodded without another word.

 

With expert hands, Yongsun tore off the sleeve of my shirt and tied it as tightly as possible around my thigh. “You’re lucky the bullet seems to have gone straight through the muscle here. It just barely missed the bone,” she said. “The pressure should help for a bit. Hopefully we’ll be able to get you patched up properly soon. You must’ve had quite the day.”

 

“So have you,” I said, flashing my most charming smile.

 

I guess Byulyi didn’t like that.

 

She pushed Yongsun down with the barrel of her gun, until she was seated beside me, but Yongsun continued to smile. She was so calm, I was convinced that she must’ve been held at gunpoint too many times before. That, or she trusted Byulyi. Or maybe she was an idiot.

 

She reached up and tentatively touched the hand on the trigger.

 

“Sit with me,” she said softly.

 

Byulyi stared at her intently. The rise and fall of her breathing was the only movement in the room as she weighed her options, but it wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a command. It was just a statement. The chill in Byulyi’s eyes wavered, watered even. Like magic, she lowered her gun and sat down beside her.

 

The three of us worn-out warriors sat on the dusty floor against the cracked wall of an abandoned building, staring ahead into the night sky through the giant hole in the wall. It was quite a sight.

 

A bleeding officer.

 

A blood-stained vigilante.

 

And a woman who seemed perfectly alright with being bound and kidnapped.

 

“Who are you, really?” I mumbled absentmindedly. My hands flew to my mouth, but it was too late. The words were out there and I didn’t know if it had blown my cover. I felt two pairs of eyes boring into me, and I thought for sure I’d fucked up.

 

Yongsun turned to Byulyi. “You didn’t tell her?” she asked incredulously.

 

Byulyi drew her legs up to her chest and pretended to look at her watch.

 

“I’m nobody important,” Yongsun said, turning to me with a small smile. She was so close and so pretty and smelled so nice that I almost couldn’t resist putting my head on her shoulder. “Just a woman in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

 

“She belongs to the American,” Byulyi interjected firmly.

 

A long stretch of silence followed. Who was the American? I wondered. Should I risk asking? Did it matter? My heart thumped in my chest so hard that by the time I mustered enough courage to ask, the moment had already seemed to pass. Byulyi stared ahead. The conversation was over.

 

Until Yongsun spoke again.

 

“I don’t belong to him,” she said quietly. “I—” 

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Byulyi quickly said. “He thinks you belong to him. That’s why he hurts you. That’s why you let him.”

 

“I—”

 

“Don’t,” she said, pointing her gun at her. “I’m taking you in for the bounty. That’s it.” 

 

Yongsun giggled. “How much am I worth now?”

 

Turns out, a cool $150 000. USD.

 

Kim Yongsun, the same ethereal goddess who had been tied to her throne just ten minutes before, was a wanted criminal across more countries than I could even name. Nobody important, she said. Nobody important. Just the right hand man of one of the biggest, most dangerous leaders in the underworld, a man almost single-handedly responsible for the anarchy on this plane. Nope, nobody important at all.

 

I closed my eyes and pretended this wasn’t real. Like maybe we weren’t carrying a giant target on our back now that we had some evil villain’s girlfriend. Like maybe our lives didn’t hinge on Wheein being able to drive a chopper across a random city we were thrown into.

 

Oh god, just thinking about my angel trying to fly made me want to throw up.

 

Meanwhile, Byulyi was getting increasingly restless. Yongsun had an effect on her, and they both knew it, and she didn’t like it. She wanted to pace, but she also did not want Yongsun further than half a millimetre away from her gun.

 

And so she pulled Yongsun up by the collar with one hand, and kept the gun on her chest with the other. The two of them stood facing each other, casting their shadow on me, and staring each other down.

 

“Relax, Byul,” Yongsun said. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to be poking me so hard with that thing. I know I hurt you before, but you can trust me now. I’m not going anywhere. I have nowhere to go.”

 

“Don’t talk to me about trust, Kim Yongsun.”

 

“I regret leaving you every day.”

 

Byulyi released the safety, and shoved the gun deeper into her chest. “You can say whatever you want while this is pointed at you.”

 

“Fine, if this is what it takes for you to believe me,” Yongsun said, her voice laced with ice. “I’ll play it your way.”

 

Faster than Byulyi could react, Yongsun reach up, grab the gun, and pushed it upward. A bullet flew and bounced off the ceiling. Byulyi gasped as, in one fluid motion, her arm was pulled and twisted behind her back. Yongsun threw her entire weight onto Byulyi, and before I knew it, she was somehow straddling Byulyi’s back, clamping down on her arms with one hand, and bruising her back with the gun with the other hand.

 

I didn’t even see her take the gun.

 

Yongsun looked up and smiled at me, and I felt a shiver of fear run through my spine. She probably read the internal screaming on my face, because that was all the attention she could spare. It was back to Byulyi, and I couldn’t be more relieved. That was _not_ a friendly smile.

 

“Did you forget what I was capable of?” Yongsun said with a little sigh.

 

With her cheek pressed against the dusty floor, Byulyi said nothing. Yongsun repeated her question, but she only lay still. Eyes closed, breathing steady. Like Yongsun had resigned herself before, Byulyi seemed confident that struggling was either counterproductive or unnecessary.

 

“So will you listen to me now?”

 

Silence.

 

“Why are you such an idiot?” Yongsun was losing her cool at the speed of sound, and jabbing the gun so hard into her back, even I could feel the effects of it. I dimly began to philosophize a little about the effects of holding a gun, wondering if it was what made people so emotional, because the girl in the chair was as far from this as it could get.

 

“Ignoring me isn’t going to solve anything,” she growled.

 

Byulyi’s voice rumbled steady and low. “I’m listening,” she said.

 

“I really, really missed you,” Yongsun whispered. She was nearly on the verge of tears in her anger and frustration at this point, and threw the gun at the wall above my head (not gonna lie, I yelped pretty hard), and collapsed onto Byulyi’s back. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

“It matters to me,” Yongsun said, pushing her face deeper into Byulyi’s back.

 

“Well, it doesn’t matter to me. You’re not the person I looked up to anymore. You’re just a hundred-fifty thousand,” she spat.

 

“I know. I know I have a lot of blood on my hands. I can’t undo what I’ve done, but—”

 

“Why did you even do it? Why did you run away with him?”

 

“I had to, Byul.”

 

“No. You didn’t.”

 

“He was going to take you.”

 

“What?”

 

“The American. You were the one he wanted. Do you remember what you were like back in the orphanage? You were the perfect soldier, Byul. Everyone knew that. The General would have sold you in a heartbeat for the right price.”

 

“But he didn’t.”

 

“No.”

 

“He died the week the American arrived. The week after you left me.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It was you.”

 

“I had to prove myself. Or he would’ve taken you.”

 

Byulyi tried to push herself up, and Yongsun relented, though she kept the pistol aimed. She crawled out from under Yongsun, and put her hands up with a heavy sigh. “I can’t listen to this right now,” she said, hanging her head.

 

She stole a glance at her watch. “Where the fuck is Wheein?” she mumbled. “Everything sucks.”

 

I volunteered to go up to the broken ledge and scout. Carefully, I manoeuvered myself off the ground and walked around the silent (and sulking) couple, whose favourite pastime seemed to be holding each other at gunpoint. Their eyes bore into me, if only to avoid facing each other for the long minute it took for me to hobble across the room. Across the room and out into the world.

 

Thank god I had my hand on a wall for support—I couldn’t believe what I saw.

 

In the night, each building below us morphed into each other in ragged black shapes, broken pieces of what used to be. Tendrils of smoke rose into the sky, columns upon columns all across the city. Not a sign of life for miles and miles. Just smoke and ruin, and a sky full of stars. The full moon shone without a care.

 

From what I could gather, I had jumped into a dystopian world overrun by too much crime to be contained. Military orphanages, laws thrown to the wayside—there was no love here. There was so much I didn’t know about this world, but I didn’t even want to know. And poor Byulyi—the Master Spirit’s gentleness was completely overrun by the hardened reality of this world.

 

My heart seemed to stand still as a realization dawned on me.

 

This was the worst case scenario.

 

I was trapped. Trapped in an apocalyptic wasteland, trapped between two combat-trained sociopaths, trapped in a life I can’t even remember. I could probably handle all of this if I had Wheein by my side.

 

But I didn’t. I didn’t even know where she was, or if she was alive (there was a very real possibility that she might have crashed into a building by now). I couldn’t see anything through the smoke, nothing but the moon and the stars. What if she died? What happens to her spirit? What would happen to me?

 

I shielded my eyes with my arm, and willed myself to take a deep breath.

 

 “Byul-ah,” I heard Yongsun say softly behind me in the other room. “Let’s run away together. We can start our own colony.”

 

Byulyi had her arms down by her sides now, as if ready to salute the woman pointing a gun at her. Yongsun sighed, and lowered her weapon. Like a wonderfully romantic drama, she dropped the gun and rushed forward to embrace the love of her life.  

 

“There’s nothing here for us,” Yongsun said into Byulyi’s collarbone.

 

“Fuck you,” Byulyi said, as unmoving as a statue. “You’re just saying whatever you fucking want.”

 

“I know you want to,” Yongsun said, clinging to her desperately. “Please. We can make up for all those years. We could be so happy.”

 

Byulyi frowned, and pushed her back before throwing a punch. In a perfectly civil conversation, I would probably have been beaten to a pulp if I was the one being ambushed by a random act of violence, but Yongsun caught it with ease. Her dark eyes seemed to shine, as if to say it wasn’t random at all—as if she’d provoked it.

 

Byulyi grunted, and struck again with no success. Yongsun allowed three more attempts before she finally got pissed off. The fifth punch was met with a block and a counterstrike, but Byulyi shifted to the side, narrowly dodging the blow.

 

Byulyi charged forward, and kneed Yongsun in the stomach before she could finish. Yongsun staggered back. When she looked up again, god she was not happy. She looked like she was ready to murder with her narrowed eyes and grit teeth. She leapt forward and attempted to return the attack with a roundhouse kick.

 

While they sparred, I tried to turn invisible. The fighting escalated quickly, and damn they were good. More holes started forming on the walls. Bodies started accumulating bruises.

 

I didn’t know what I could do, but I had to do something. Quick. Before they kill each other and ruined my chances of going home. I needed them to fall in love. Right at that moment. The feelings were there. But all I could do was scream “KISS ALREADY” in my head.

 

I could’ve taken my gun out of my belt and threatened the two of them like a badass, but one or both of them could probably punch a bullet right back at me (that’s how tough they were in my mind). It would be like getting caught between a wrecking ball and a steamroller.

 

So I let them fight it out.

 

Sure enough, ten minutes later, the two of them lay on the dusty concrete floor, breathing heavily. Yongsun’s flawless skin was flecked with bruises, and Byulyi came away with a busted lip. They lay there, staring at the ceiling, and I thought _why_?

 

“Now that you two idiots got it out of your system, can we kiss and make up and just focus on the important things?” I grumbled. “Not like we have a group of crazy murderers on our tail, or anything.”

 

They sat up (it was so synchronized it was scary), and stared at me, cheeks as pink as a monkey’s ass. Yes, either of them could probably kill me with their little finger, but seeing them now, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

 

Byulyi ran a hand through her hair, then cleared her throat. “L-Let’s get to the roof,” she said as gruffly as a love-struck 13-year-old girl could. She got up, retrieved her gun, and marched out of the room.

 

Yongsun turned to me and smiled, the ethereal woman in her throne returning. As soon as I saw that smile, I swear I couldn’t even remember my mother’s name, much less what a crazy bitch this woman could be. So when she came over and offered her shoulder for support, I was more than happy to accept it.

 

We turned a corner and made our way up the roof slowly, with Byulyi glaring down at us from a flight above every once in a while.

 

That was when a thought struck me.

 

If Wheein shows up, she’ll see me. This rugged, slim, fit, badass version of me, smeared in blood, sweat, and awesomeness (complete with a side of bullet wound). I couldn’t see myself, but I knew I looked nothing like my real flabby self.

 

Seeing who I could be…would she be dissatisfied with who I am?

 

God, the angst returned so fast. Wheein wasn’t a shallow person. I knew that. But what if she saw me and wanted more, when I couldn’t give her more. All I had was a borrowed existence and a pile of broken dreams to go with it.

 

Yongsun nudged me lightly with her hip.

 

“Are you alright, Hyejin?” she asked sweetly.

 

I turned to look at her, stopping in my tracks. She gazed back with a tilt of her head, waiting and questioning. Yongsun was just as much of an angel as Wheein was, I thought. In that moment, consumed by my own insecurity, shit hit the fan.

 

I still couldn’t tell you what I was thinking when I leaned over and kissed Yongsun on the lips. I couldn’t tell you why she didn’t push me away, but I _could_ tell you those angry boots stomping down the stairs was no fucking joke. Especially when one of them kicked me right in the face.

 

“MOON BYULYI!” I heard Yongsun scream as I soared over the staircase in slow motion. A buzz of voices washed over me. I hit the floor, and it hurt like hell.

 

\--

 

The moon hovered over me when I awoke. A steady breeze was picking up, and it smelled like burning rubber. It was eerily quiet.

 

I pushed myself up with my elbows, and immediately lay back down again (more like collapse and fall in excruciating pain). I’d forgotten about the hole in my thigh, but beyond that, new sensations were erupting all over me. For one, my nose was definitely broken. Yep. Second, I was probably bleeding in more places than I can count. Inside and outside.

 

The only comfort was my bulletproof vest supporting my neck, and the rest of my freshly ripped up shirt wrapped around the bullet wound. I could feel the breeze running over my stomach (and yes, I definitely had abs), but it wasn’t cold. It was hot as fuck, and I was wearing only a sports bra and combat pants.

 

I tried pushing myself up a second time, with slightly better results. I was at least half vertical in my seated position.

 

We were on the roof, and all I could see was towering skyscrapers, smoke and sky. Byulyi and Yongsun stood on opposite corners of the roof like gargoyles looking out onto the wreckage below.

 

Byulyi turned, narrowed her eyes, and turned back to the horizon. At the sound of the slightest rustle, Yongsun whipped back, her hair gracefully falling over her shoulder like a shampoo commercial. She smiled, and sauntered over.

 

“Nice to see you up again,” she said, offering me her hand in support.

 

I shook my head. “Think I’ll stay down here for a bit.”

 

Yongsun rubbed her neck sheepishly. “I’m sorry about what happened,” she said.

 

“Not your fault,” I replied, shifting my eyes from Yongsun’s open smile to Byulyi’s back. She was glancing at her silver Rolex impatiently and searching the skies for Wheein. When I turned back to Yongsun, I noticed the state of her exposed limbs for the first time. Swollen and bruised anew, it looked a lot like another lovers’ quarrel on steroids. “I gather you guys had a good, civilized talk and sorted through your feelings and all that crap?”

 

Yongsun followed my eyes, looked down at her arms, and chuckled. “You could say that,” she said with a crooked smile.”

 

“Did it work the second time?”

 

She shrugged. “Who knows? She’s always been so ambiguous about her feelings. Hot and cold, on and off. It’s exhausting.”

 

Ambiguous. Byulyi was nothing else if not ambiguous. The image of her gently and lovingly brushing back Yongsun’s hair conflicted with the morally ambiguous fighter with the busted lip

 

“Maybe you should stop fighting fire with fire then,” I said with a roll of my eyes.

 

“You see it, don’t you?” she said, crouching down to meet my eyes. “We feel the same way about each other, don’t we? She wouldn’t have hurt you if she didn’t, right?”

 

I put a hand on her shoulder. “You hate each other, then you love each other, then you hate each other again. Make up your goddamn mind.”

 

She looked me dead in the eye. No hesitation. “I love her,” she said firmly. “All this time she’s the only one I’ve ever loved.”

 

It was a beautiful confession, until, of course, it wasn’t. As if on cue, a cacophony of expletives filled the air as Byulyi leapt of her perch and began marching toward us.

 

“FUCK!” Byulyi cried with finality. “We gotta go. Now.”

 

I looked around. “What? Where? What happened?”

 

She jogged past me, her ever-present gun in its holster bouncing with each step, and disappeared behind a door. Five minutes later, she returned with a black duffle bag slung across her back and two coils of rope.

 

She motioned for me to stand up, and I did not hesitate to take Yongsun’s hand then. Byulyi’s scowl was deeper than ever. She shoved a coil of rope into my chest, and tossed a grappling hook from her duffle at my feet. Her hands deftly tied the hook and the knot.

 

It happened so quickly and intricately that when I looked down at my own rope and hook, I knew I was fucked. 

 

“That building is empty,” she said, pointing to a neighbouring structure with the hook. She released Yongsun’s hand with a warning look, and swung the hook several times before tossing it through an open window in the next building. None of the buildings around us had any full sheets of glass, so it was easy for the hook to catch on.

 

She tugged it three times for security, then scooped Yongsun up by the waist (very protectively, I would add). Yongsun grinned, but Byulyi didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy glaring at me.

 

“We’ll go first, Hyejin. You’ll follow.”

 

I gaped.

 

I didn’t even have time to protest.

 

They ran to the edge and leapt off. Didn’t even stop and consider the possibility of falling to death. No, Byulyi was clearly practiced, and Yongsun was clearly too busy enjoying Byulyi’s strong arms and musky scent to care. Fuck these guys, I thought as I watched them ease themselves into the opposite wall, and rappelled up to the open window.

 

I picked up the hook and stared at it. And stared. As if it will magically tie itself to the rope in a way that won’t drop me to my death when I throw my whole weight on it. There was nothing left to do but try.

 

I looped the rope through the eye. Interestingly, a part of me seemed to know what I was doing, and I managed what seemed to be a bowline knot (though I don’t know where I’d learned that from). I tugged it a few times, and swung it around just to make sure. I almost smiled when the thing didn’t fly off, but I didn’t have time to celebrate. Byulyi was watching me from the other building, and she was not happy.

 

(This girl, to my detriment, was oblivious. Yongsun could have been throwing her boobs into her face and she would probably have been too pissed off at me still to notice.)

 

I hurried to the ledge, screaming, screaming, screaming inside. How the hell do you even use a grappling hook? Fuck, I was going to die, I knew it.

 

As soon as I stood on that ledge, I saw the problem. Men in black were swarming into our building. Like a cloud of buzzards, they poured in from the streets with all manners of big guns in their hands.

 

I had to jump. If I waited longer, they would’ve noticed me. We would’ve been fucked. Worse, I would probably have to do this again and again.

 

I took a deep breath. Don’t look down, I told myself. Don’t think about the fifty storeys below you. Don’t think about the possibility of bullets whizzing past you. I said so many prayers that surely one of them will be heard and answered.

 

Finally, I began to swing, just as Byulyi had done.

 

One more breath. Calm. I had to stay calm.

 

Before I let myself overthink it, I tossed the hook. My heart did backflips as it flew through the air, its trajectory uncertain, but it caught the ledge and stuck on. I pumped my fist into the air, and roared a silent battle cry.

 

Then it was the hard part. Actually physically getting myself across. Surely slamming face-first into a wall was better than standing here and waiting to get shot. It had to be, right? Unless I let go.

 

I rubbed my hands over the side of my pants.

 

Byulyi was simultaneously glaring at me and her watch impatiently now. Each moment wasted on the ledge was another moment closer to the possibility that she was going to pull her gun out and shoot me herself. Yongsun slapped her lightly on the shoulder.

 

I bent down, tightened the makeshift bandage around my thigh, and closed my eyes.

 

Then I jumped.  

 

I was fucking _flying_ —god it felt so good. Wind in my hair, freedom on my back. For the first time in my life, I felt like my body was more than just a burden. It carried me over the air, toward the building.  I surrendered my will and caught the wall with bent knees. I held on, and, ignoring the pain, pushed with my legs.

 

In no time at all was I in the next building. It was like my body knew.

 

“About fucking time,” Byulyi mumbled, grabbing the rope and hook from me. “We gotta get to higher ground.”

 

“Byul, wait. Let’s give Hyejin a chance to catch her breath,” Yongsun said.

 

“She can rest when we get to higher ground.” 

 

Yongsun slapped her across the shoulder with the back of her hand. “What is your problem?” she demanded. Oh good, I thought as I crouched down on the floor and felt the strain of the last few minutes crash down on me. They were going to fight again.

 

Byulyi jabbed a finger into Yongsun’s chest. “Don’t forget that you’re our hostage. Stay in line.”

 

“She’s your friend!” Yongsun cried, slapping her finger away.

 

Byulyi raised a fist.

 

Yongsun sighed, threw her hands up, and stormed off. “I don’t want to fight you!” she yelled over her shoulder.

 

I groaned and got up to follow, leaving Byulyi dumbfounded behind us.

 

Once again the tension was thick. Byulyi checked her watch every two seconds, silently watching the skies at the edge of the roof, while Yongsun bit her lip anxiously beside me.

 

I propped myself against the ledge and watched them until I couldn’t bear it anymore. I was hurting all over and sick of confronting my mortality over and over again. I missed Wheein like hell, and I just wanted Byulyi and Yongsun to stop being dicks to each other so I can be with her again.

 

Once in a while Byulyi would sneak a glance at Yongsun, just to make sure she’s still there. She isn’t heartless. She was just in fucking denial and it was so frustrating. Really, her problem was obvious. She’d been hurt by Yongsun before, and she didn’t want to hurt again. Her refusal to label her feelings were just that simple.

 

“You guys need to talk to each other without punching each other,” I said before I could stop myself. Yongsun turned to me, then carefully snuck a look at Byulyi, who remained unmoved. “We can’t rely on Wheein to bail us out, and you’re making it so damn awkward here.”

 

Yongsun leaned her head against my shoulder, and sighed. She was warm and comfortable, but I swear my stomach dropped right through my ass when I saw Byulyi almost immediately fume toward us.

 

“Call her,” Byulyi said, her eyes deadly and smouldering. To make matters worse, Yongsun wasn’t moving. She was clearly using me, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

 

“What?”

 

She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and tossed it into my lap. “Call your girl,” she said. The quiet, barely contained rage in her voice seemed to contain the full message: “Call your girl and stop ogling mine.” She stood over me, casting her shadow all over my personal space. The full moon and the smoke framing her pale face was so ominous.

 

I swallowed and did as I was told.

 

The phone seemed to ring for eons as Byulyi burned holes into the top of my skull.

 

“HELLO? IS THIS BYUL? PLEASE TALK I’M FLYING. WHERE ARE YOU?”

 

Wheein’s slightly accented English twisted up my insides. I was so stunned, I didn’t know what to say, so I let the roar of the machinery take over. To hear her sound so…alive just made me emotional.

 

I could barely stifle a sob. “W-Wheeinie?” I finally whispered.

 

“Hyejin? Oh my god, you’re okay. PLEASE TELL ME YOU ARE OKAY. I woke up in a hanger all by myself, holy shit, this is really fucked up. Did you wake up in a gun fight? Wait, don’t tell me, or I’m probably going to faint. Fuck, don’t ever let me drive a vehicle ever again, Hyejin. This is so scary, you don’t even know how intense the last hour has been. I just spent thirty minutes crying in the hanger and thirty minutes getting lost. I still don’t know where I am, and this really sucks.”

 

Byulyi raised an eyebrow at me as I let Wheein ramble on. What’s going on? She mouthed. I cleared my throat. “Slow down, Wheein, we can’t talk about this right now. I’m fine. Where are you?”

 

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I miss you.”

 

“I miss you too,” I said softly.

 

Yongsun lifted her head, and blinked at me. Byulyi seemed to visibly relax at my confession, and was a lot more compliant when I passed the phone along for directions.

 

The quivering excitement in Wheein’s voice told me she had a lot more to say, but this was neither the time nor place. I pictured the large bed, the food, the naked angel curled up beside me, and I heaved a sigh. When I looked up, Yongsun was smiling.  

 

I tried my best to return it, but I must’ve just looked tired. She pat me on the head, and it was a lot easier to smile after that.

 

“Five minutes,” Byulyi said.

 

Sure enough, a little black dot appeared in the horizon five minutes later, just as the building beside us began to shake with clamouring voices. The men in black were catching up. Their boots stormed up from floor to floor, and we didn’t dare go look.

 

As Wheein got closer, so did they.

 

All of us held our breaths as we waited for the first bullet to fly. Byulyi and I took our guns out. She signalled for Yongsun to grab the grappling hooks, and handed one to me.

 

The chopper whirred, louder and louder.

 

Suddenly, the heavy marching boots stopped. Silence. These men in black were a well-oiled machine, and it was as if the entire city complied when they demanded silence.

  
Except, of course, the chopper.

 

Wheen didn’t even get close when the first wave of bullets flew toward her. She tried a few more times from different angles, but she was too open. I dreaded the alternative. We’d have to jump. But we didn’t have time to sit and contemplate.

 

The ground began to shake between us. Smoke and fire exploded one floor after another. I couldn’t tell what they were doing, but it wasn’t good. Byulyi held Yongsun by the waist as she swung the hook.

 

This time, right before she threw the hook, she turned to Yongsun and planted a kiss on her head. This is it, she seemed to say. I love you.

 

They ran, jumped, soared, and threw their line, as if in slow motion. My god it was beautiful. Byulyi looked so powerful, and Yongsun looked so beautiful, so perfect in Byulyi’s arms.

 

There was a very real chance that Byulyi could’ve missed entirely, but her hook caught one of the skids just in time. Byulyi and Yongsun clung to each other for dear life as bullets whizzed past them. Wheein manoeuvered the helicopter around and offered me the other skid. The rumbling beneath me was getting closer.

 

I ran. I ran through the pain shooting up my leg with every step. Oh god I ran like I’d never run in my life. The distance between Wheein and I was a veritable gulf, and I had to bet my life on a rope and hook and fly.

 

I lept as the world around me crumbled. Fire and smoke warmed my back, propelling me forward. I flew as high as I could, and threw my rope, right at the pinnacle.

 

The silver hook glided over an arc.

 

Sailed.

 

Right past the skid.

 

And plummeted.

 

I heard my name roared above the din of flying shells and explosions.

 

Falling has always been one of my greatest fears. Falling from favour, from grace. Falling off a burning building, interestingly, had never been high on my bucket list. As I closed my eyes, I began my apology letter.

 

To the Hyejin whose body I stole: I’m sorry.

 

To all the Moon Byulyi’s across universes: Don’t be an idiot.

 

To the first Yongsun I’ve ever met: Thank you.

 

To Wheein: I—

 

Suddenly I was floating. Snatched right out of the air against my back, a warm hand met my own. My eyes flew open, and met the strained face of Moon Byulyi, dangling by the edge of the rope. She pulled me up with all her strength, just far enough for me to latch onto the rope, as we sailed over the sea of fire in the black and white world below.

 

In other circumstances, it could’ve been beautiful, but as I followed Byulyi and climbed up into the helicopter with my last burst of adrenaline, I could think about nothing but the pounding of my head. I collapsed next to Byulyi, and we were both trying to suck more air into our lungs than we were capable.

 

God everything hurt. The two of us lay there, sweaty and broken. I stole a look at the back of Wheein’s head and smiled. Yongsun lifted Byulyi’s head into her lap, and cried.

 

“What’s with you?” Byulyi chuckled softly. “I’ve been through worse. We both have.”

 

“I know, but, I don’t want to risk losing you anymore.”

 

Byulyi closed her eyes. “It’s part of the job description, Yongsun.”

 

“I have money. We can run away. We can start fresh. We could be, I don’t know, bakers or something.”

 

“You know I can’t take your money. Not with what you had to do to get it. Look, I—”

 

“Just stop talking now,” Yongsun whispered. “I don’t want to fight.” She cradled Byulyi’s cheeks in both hands, and bent down to kiss her. Long and sweet. I turned away to give them some privacy, and closed my eyes once again.

 

\--

 

I awoke to a stark white ceiling etched with a sun and a moon. Beneath me were silk sheets and downy pillows. Everything smelled like the slightest whiff of lavender, clean and comforting. I thought I’d died this time for sure, and I’d finally gone to heaven. When I turned my head and saw my angel curled up against my side like a kitten, I grinned. Yes, I thought, this was heaven.

 

Of all the times I woke up today, this was my favourite.

 

I threaded my fingers through Wheein’s long black hair, like I was feeling its softness for the first and last time. It’d been so long since I’d seen her face, I couldn’t help running my hands all over her. I began lightly enough, not wanting to disturb her, but I felt like I needed to memorize her outline like my life depended on it.

 

Before long, Wheein stirred and stretched, and rolled up on top of me. “Good morning,” she mumbled sleepily with a smile, and my heart was filled with all kinds of feelings.

 

I bit my lip to stay calm. “Good morning.”

 

“I’m glad I was able to wake up next to you,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I was really scared, you know that? So many things could’ve gone wrong, and when you fell—”

 

“Hey.” I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her tight enough to make her yelp. “It’s okay. It’s over now. We did it. You did good, Wheeinie.”

 

She grinned. “You were really cool though.”

 

I laughed with a tinge of nervousness. “Yeah, I was pretty hot.”

 

“Always,” she said. After a quick kiss on the lips, she bounced off into the bathroom.

 

I flexed my fingers in front of me. It was so weird being back in my own body, unburdened by my countless scrapes and wounds. I rolled my shoulders back and stretched my legs just to get a feel of them again.

 

Just like that. No after affects, and none of the vertigo when we first entered. It was as if nothing had changed, nothing had happened. Not a trace of evidence to say I didn’t make this up.

 

Not that I really cared. Who would I even tell? No, you know what bothered me the most? After all that running, jumping, almost-dying, all I could think about was that amazing body I had. And what an amazing person I must’ve been. Life was so _exciting_.

 

As I sat on the bed, listening to the water run from the shower, I wondered if Wheein sounded disappointed when she said, “Always.” I couldn’t tell. I didn’t miss the bullet wound, but I sure as hell missed the abs.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: With the release of Decalcomanie, I'm sure many of us was frustrated by the random dude in the MV. While I couldn't find a suitable place to tell the backstory behind this world, I am totally unashamed to admit that I used that guy as a model for the American, the prime apocalypse bringer, for this story.
> 
> Not 2: I post on AFF before AO3. If you'd like the quickest updates, follow this link for my profile: https://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/1370061


	3. The Second Door

THE SECOND DOOR

The white room was exactly as we remembered yesterday. A big bed and a long glass table filled with food, framed by simple and sleek furnishing. Everything was just as we had left it. In fact, I couldn’t even be sure we’d left at all, if not for the memories blazed into my skull.

Only one thing stood out.

The wall directly opposite from our bed now hung a small, square canvas. On the canvas, the paint was as red and stark as a rose in a snowstorm. There was nothing else on it, nothing to suggest it was truly out of the ordinary. Just a red square on the wall..

“That’s weird,” I said, sitting at the edge of the bed with my legs crossed. My hands were on my stomach, as if I was still subconsciously feeling around for those abs lying underneath, but the red square on the wall had abruptly barged into my thoughts.

“What’s up?” Wheein replied, walking out of the bathroom naked with a towel on her head.

“That wasn’t there yesterday, was it?” I said, pointing.

“Don’t think so. I think I would’ve noticed.”

“Or you would’ve been too busy biting me to notice," I said.

She stuck her tongue out and threw the length of her body across my lap. She ran a hand along my cheek, looking up at me with the biggest smile on her face. I smiled back, everything else forgotten. Fuck it, I thought as I rubbed the towel off her head and smoothed her wet hair out of her eyes. Who cares about art anyway?

After our nerve-shattering adventure, we decided to take the rest of the night off. We must've spent hours just laying on the bed, wrapped up in each other’s company, trying to figure out what happened. There was so much I wanted to say, but so much I was too scared to say.

She sat up and adjusted herself between my legs. I pressed my hands into her stomach and pulled her closer, resting my chin on her shoulder as we exchanged stories.

She told me about waking up in the dark hanger with no roof. About the phone call, and the tears that came after. She told me how she just seemed to know exactly which switches to press to get the chopper off the ground. She told me how she had weaved around broken buildings and thick pillars of smoke, searching the city blind to find us. “The building on fourth, she said,” Wheein fumed, “as if there were fucking street signs in the skies.”

I told her about my injuries. About Byulyi. Yongsun. The American. The men in black. All the things I could keep at a distance. She listened intensely, asking questions here and there. I fed her the pieces of the puzzle in my head, and together we filled in the blanks.

I didn't tell her how much I had missed her. Didn't tell her about the kiss. But when she turned to me with that mysterious little smile, I felt like she could see right through me. To her I must’ve been a glass window, but to me she was a brick wall I was too short, too afraid, to climb.

"You must've liked Yongsun a lot," she said, twisting around to look at me, her eyes boring straight into my own.

I looked away. "She was nice," I mumbled.

She whipped back and said, "She was pretty."

"Mmm, yeah. And head over heels for Byul, but god, Byulyi was such a stubborn idiot," I said, playing with the chopped up ends of my hair.

A burst of laughter went off like a firecracker in my lap. She laughed so hard that she tumbled forward and out of my lap, clutching her stomach, tears squeezing out the edges of her eyes. "What's so funny?" I said, giving her a light slap on the leg. "What did I say?"

When she didn't stop, I tugged at her arm, whining. "Wheein-ah!"

"Sorry, sorry. It's just. You," she said in between breaths, "calling someone else a stubborn idiot."

I frowned. "What was that supposed to mean?" I mumbled as flung my legs over the edge of the bed. I tried to leave, but Wheein grabbed me by the wrist.

"Don't be mad," she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

I shook her off. "I'm not mad. I just need to take a shower."

"Later," she said softly, gently tugging me by the hand. Her gaze trailed from my eyes to my lips. "I want you right now."

Nothing was my own when she looked at me with those half-lidded eyes. I couldn't say no. Not when it almost felt like we were both in love, even if just for a moment. Of course I was mad, but everything changed when she looked at me with that rare burst of raw and overpowering emotion. When she kissed me, I was purified. When she touched me, she made me feel like I was her angel too.

Our frantic voices seemed to fill the room, never slowing down--passionate and wild until the end. We couldn't slow down. That would be like making love.

Afterwards, we ate our fill and decided to look around the room. Last time we were here, we were so fixated on ourselves that we didn’t get the chance. Besides, we had time until Byulyi came knocking.

It was a big room, but very straight forward. I checked for hidden doors and passageways, but I guess Byulyi had no need when she can walk through walls. There was, however, a wonderful walk-in closet, filled with clothes from every era, where we shamelessly spent a good few hours playing dress-up.

Then we took the guitar out and sang a few songs. “Love on Top” played softly and full of love. “Love the Way You Lie”--passionate, violent, and desperate--reflected our kind of crazy just right.

We ran out of things to do very quickly after that. There was no TV, no books, nothing that could be termed fun. Time seemed to stretch on forever as we waited for Byulyi.

“Where do you think she is?” Wheein asked. She sat with her head on my shoulder against the bed, and I could feel her vibrations as she spoke.

“She should really be here. Maybe we didn’t give her enough energy,” I said, glancing down to my open palm, where Wheein absentmindedly drew circles with her finger.

“We can’t go back, can we?”

I folded my hand over hers and kept my gaze down. “I…don’t really want to go back.”

I felt Wheein’s frown on my shoulder. “What if they’re all dead? Then we’ve just lost a connection.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Okay, but even if they’re not dead, Byulyi and Yongsun’s relationship wasn’t the strongest. You remember how faded Byulyi was getting yesterday. It might not have been enough.”

"So what, were we supposed to stand around and wait for them to fuck?"

"Hyejin!"

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. To think that after nearly dying more times than I could count, it was not enough. "Seriously, how do we even know when they make a connection or whatever?"

Wheein shrugged. "A kiss?"

I scoffed. "A true love's kiss?"

Wheein lifted her head from my shoulder, grinning, her dimple digging deep. "What, you don't believe in the magic of kissing?" She said, watching me intensely.

My eyes automatically found her lips, puckered up and oh-so-inviting. "You know I don't believe in that crap," I said, feeling my cheeks warm just a little.

She pulled away, and threw her head back with a resigned sigh. "If not that, then what?" she said to the ceiling.

"Stand around and wait for them to tear each other's clothes off," I said matter-of-factly.

"Stop it, perv."

“What do you think we should do then?” I asked.

Her head lolled to the side to look at me. “Let’s just go," she said. "We can’t afford to waste any more time.”

I dragged myself off the floor and pulled Wheein up by both arms. “I hope we’ll actually be together this time,” I mumbled absentmindedly.

Wheein laughed and wrapped her hands around the back of my neck. “You might not think so, but we’ll probably always be together," she said with a smile.

We got dressed, and made our way down the red hall silently. For the first time ever in this hallway, neither of us were sleepy, but I could see the apprehension on Wheein’s face. The moustache door was still fresh and new. Though I spared many details, there was still a lot weighing on both our minds. Above all, I don't think either of us were keen to jump into another nightmare situation so soon.

I silently hoped that the next universe will be filled with puppies and kittens. Or at least a place where the sun shined. A happy place.

We walked past the mustache door, eyes ahead (as if just looking at it would drag us back inside), to the one beside it.

“Wait, this one doesn’t have a knob,” Wheein said.

I looked around. “None of them have knobs, what the hell?”

Not even the red mustache door had a knob. I knew then, almost with relief, that the door wasn’t going to open for us again. There was no second chance in that world, and I could only pray that the four of them were alive and well.

“Hyejin-ah, come here,” Wheein called from the far end of the hallway. I quickly jogged up to her. “This is the only door with a knob, she said, gesturing.

It was a glass door this time—a thin, white, wooden frame surrounded a frosted glass pane, where a beautiful stained glass pattern of a grand piano glittered under the yellow light like diamonds. The keys, arranged in an oddly triangular fashion, were made of darkly stained wood, embedded in the glass. There was nothing to see on the other side. Just pale and abstract shades of blues and greens mixed with grey.

“Hopefully, this will be a little more straightforward,” Wheein muttered.

“Maybe you’ll be a pianist.”

“Or something totally random. Like a waitress.”

I chuckled. “You never know.”

She turned the knob and drowned us in light.

\--

A gentle breeze brushed by. The scent of pine and fresh, frosty air. A gentle melody played from far away. My eyes fluttered open, and was filled with nothing but blue sky and fluffy white clouds.

No fire, no burning buildings, no dead bodies. That alone was more than I dared hoped for.

Though still groggy from sleep, I wiggled my fingers and my toes and happily found that I was perfectly intact. Birds chirped. The sun shined. Utter peace accompanied by soft, far-off piano music. Could it get any better?

I was well-bundled up by white scarf (cashmere!), and warm all over. Even the bench I woke up on was warm.

“Hyejin?” A voice said from above me. Wide brown eyes loomed into my vision, and I almost rolled off.

“Holy shit,” I muttered in disbelief. I reached up to touch Wheein’s face, just to see if she was real. Did all the luck in the world suddenly fall on my head? Or was it too good to be true? I must've been crazy. I just couldn’t believe it, even when I was rubbing my gloved (real leather!) hand all over her face. “Hurry,” I said, “what’s my favourite number?”

Wheein grinned, showing off her glorious dimple. “Sixty because it’s sexy.”

No, no, no. I could’ve arrived at the same preference in this timeline, I thought. I tried again: “What was on the wall this morning?”

Wheein rolled her eyes this time. “The red painting? I can’t believe you can’t tell it’s me.”

“Wow,” I said breathlessly, reaching up to brush her hair. “You have such weird bangs.”

She shoved me off her lap.

We were, as far as I could tell, in a rather secluded area surrounded by pavement and concrete buildings. There was a bridge across a manmade pond beside us (a pathetic attempt at recreating nature, in my opinion). There probably wasn’t a speck of grass beneath the blankets of snow. It looked like a university campus, but it was almost empty.

As I caught myself on the bench, I noticed an expensive-looking designer backpack propped up against the bench. (If I had the luxury of owning a bag like this in my own life, it would probably be in a glass case at home—not on the wet ground beside a shitty pond.) I pulled it up into my lap as I sat beside Wheein, who was already busy rummaging through what seemed to be a ragged portfolio bag.

“I’m pretty good at this art stuff,” she said, flipping through papers.

I peeked over. “You’ve always been,” I said. “Guess you became an artist after all in this life.”

“Designer.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. Everything. Clothes, cars, book jackets, graphics, you name it. This is so extensive.” She stopped shuffling turned to me for a moment. “We’re second years, aren’t we? If this universe is anything like ours.”

“Let’s see if I can find anything that can tell us more. God, look at this bag. It must’ve cost three times our rent.” I unzipped it carefully. The little plaque on the back told me this was MCM—I didn’t even know what that was. (Much later, I found out the bag in my own world for the bargain price of 2150. American dollars.)

The contents of my bag were as follows: a diamond-studded pen (excessive!) among a number of black HB pencils in a leather case, a set of keys, an extremely thin and extremely delicate looking laptop, a moleskin planner, and a wallet with AMQ (whatever the hell that meant) written out in gold metal. In a little pocket, I found a rectangular silver and black car key with a trident engraved on it.

“Jesus,” I heard Wheein whisper. Her eyes looked ready to pop out of their sockets. “Who are you?”

I opened my wallet and pulled out my student ID, which looked a lot like a credit card. “Ahn Hyejin,” I read out loud, “Seoul National University. GSB. What the hell does that mean?”

“Maybe it’s written down somewhere?” Wheein said, pointing to my planner.

“Would I really just—ah, yep. I wrote it right here on the first page.”

Wheein scooted over and snickered. “Property of Ahn Hyejin. Graduate School of Business.” When realization dawned, her mouth went wide, but nothing came out. I quickly flicked through my wallet for my identity card, and held it up for Wheein to see.

“Am I going crazy, or does this say I’m 19?”

Wheein rubbed her eyes, squinted, tilted her head, and even tried holding the card upside down. “You’re definitely 19,” she said.

“Holy shit. Who am I?”

Not only was I a student at a SKY university, but a graduate student at 19. And a filthy rich one at that. I was everything I never thought I could be. The worst part was, this universe looked and felt just like our own, yet both of us led completely different lives. What the hell could have happened to us? Did something happen at birth? During middle school? High school? I wanted so badly to know how I became successful in every sense of the word.

Wheein sighed, slouching back in her seat. “Damn,” she said, as if reading my mind. “I wish we had our memories or something. I’m so curious about us.”

I threw my wallet back into my bag and zipped it close. “It’s probably for the best,” I said. 

Wheein shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t matter. There’s no way for us to know.”

I smiled, leaned against her shoulder, and asked if she was cold. Her thinning green sweater was covered in holes, and the shirt underneath wasn’t in better shape. Her pink fingers weaved themselves into my gloves and she shook her head. “You warm me up,” she said with a smile.

I offered her my scarf and gloves, but she simply shook her head. I insisted. She refused, stood, pulling me up with her by the hand, and said, “Let’s just see if we can find Byulyi and Yongsun.”

We didn’t know where we wanted to go, so we decided to follow the piano music, in hopes that the piano symbol on the door had something to do with the music. We must’ve been skipping class or avoiding some kind of business, but the campus was quiet anyway. (My planner told me it was mid-February, with a cute little sad puppy sticker marking the end of winter break at the end of the month.)

We must’ve looked like quite the pair. Me in my expensive-ass (hopefully faux) fur coat, and Wheein in her oversized hand-me-down sweater and sneakers (and weird bangs—I don’t think I ever got used to them, but I secretly adored her long, curly hair in a ponytail).

By the time we found the piano, hidden between the library and the student centre, the music had stopped. The instrument was sheltered under the overhang of the library, just off the path carved between blanketed gardens. It was a shabby looking piano, but its random splashes of colours looked like it had been painted over by a troupe of reckless artists.

“I like it,” Wheein said, taking a seat and running a hand over the yellowing keys. “It doesn’t look so abandoned.”

I scoffed. “Not sure how much a new coat of paint can hide.”

“It still works,” she said, playing a half-assed scale. “It’s well-loved.”

“It still looks like shit,” I laughed.

Wheein threw me a lopsided smile. “Not everything is about looks, Hyejinie.”

I shook my head in playful disappointment, and clicked my tongue. “Do you remember how to play, Wheenie?”

“Let’s find out.” Wheein positioned her hands on the keys and straightened her back. But just as she was about to play, a voice and the patter of shoes crunching their way across the snow burst onto the scene.

“H-Hey!” The voice said.

Hunched over with her hands on her knees for support, straight black hair draped over a thin-looking trench coat, was none other than Moon Byulyi. Wheein and I looked at each other, slack-jawed and wondering just how the hell we got so lucky to have her fall right into our laps. “I. Finally. Caught. You,” she said in between gasping breaths. (Unlike vigilante Byulyi, this one was clearly out of shape.)

When Byulyi finally straightened up, she smiled and bowed, her cheeks becoming visibly pinker when she turned to Wheein. She opened her mouth to speak, but she just got pinker. “I-I-I,” she began to say. She stumbled and waved her hands around, but she got too flustered in the end. Wheein and I watched on, exchanging looks filled with second-hand embarrassment. After several long and painfully awkward moments, she reached into her bag and pulled out a crumpled envelope, and handed it to Wheein with a ninety-degree bow.

Wheein raised a brow, but politely thanked her as she received the envelope with both hands.

As soon as she made the transaction, Byulyi took off so fast that she must’ve kicked up a tiny blizzard with each step.

“Well that was weird,” I said.

“And uncomfortable. It was kind of cute though.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and pointed at the envelope. “What is it?”

Wheein flipped it open and pulled out a letter. She cleared her throat and read: “Dear Miss Piano Woman, I have admired your music from afar for a very long time. I see your silhouette every day at exactly 3:25, and that is my favourite time of the day. You bring so much beauty onto the campus and into my life every single day, and I would like to thank you. I may not know anything about you, but I believe I was made to listen to your music.”

I snuck a glance at my (fucking diamond-encrusted!) watch. 3:45.

“Wow.” I coughed, taking the letter from Wheein just to make sure it was real. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Wheein barked with laughter. “I think she likes me!” She clutched her stomach and kicked her legs with giddy joy. “I hope she won’t be too disappointed when she realizes I can only play children’s songs.”

“Are you going to tell her?” I said, scanning the letter one more time.

“Nah.” I snapped my head up. That was not the answer I was expecting. One look at Wheein, sitting there prettily with a faraway look in her eyes and the tip of her tongue poking out, told me that the mission was the last thing on her mind.

“We should find Yongsun first,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder in attempt to bring her back down to earth.

“Let’s see where this goes, Hyejinie,” she said with a grin. “This could be fun. I mean, it’s not really a love note. What’s the harm?”

“You know full well it is. We can use this to our advantage,” I said.

She shrugged like she wasn’t really listening.

I tried to stay calm, knowing I had no right to be mad. I hated my heart for beating so hard at the way Wheein looked right then. “But,” I tried again, pausing only to lick my dry lips, “this letter can help us bring them together.” 

“I know, but she’s cute.” Then she shuffled off the bench and stood. “I’m going to go after her before she gets away.”

I wanted to groan and moan and bitch and stomp, but clearly Wheein had made a decision. A decision to watch this “cute” rendition of Byulyi chase after her for the fucking thrill of it. Fun, she says. I wanted to shake my head and throw my hands up.

Instead, I simply nodded.

“Not gonna stop me, Hwasa?” She stood there with a mysterious smile, her hands cross, a note of something in her expression that I couldn’t quite read.

My lips twitched into a frown. A deep, deep frown. I opened my mouth.

But she didn’t wait for me to react, and left.

Just like that, she was gone. Leaving me frozen under my heavy fur coat, wanting to rip up the letter in my hand and kick something with my four-inch Louboutins. (Who the fuck wears heels in the middle of winter just to go to school? I did, apparently, so maybe I deserved all of this for being an idiot.) Instead, all I did was sit on that goddamn piano bench and bury my face in my hands.

Everything was going so well, and things seemed so easy for a change, but what the fuck was Wheein thinking? Byulyi needed us. She just had to go chase skirts and fuck things up.

And what the hell happened to always being together?

I was so deep in thought, so busy cursing Wheein’s fickle heart and the futility of all my silver and gold, my diamonds, and my supposed genius, that I couldn’t hear the footsteps approach.

“Excuse me,” a familiar warm voice said.

I lifted my chin with bleary eyes. “It’s you,” I breathed.

She blinked, her mouth set in a little o-shape in surprise. “I-I’m sorry, h-have we met?” she asked, shifting uncomfortably under my gaze.

Maybe I was staring a little too intensely. My instinct was to try and look for signs of the goddess in the concrete room and the cold-blooded assassin, to put her somewhere in that spectrum. Sure, she looked every bit like Kim Yongsun, though her perfect hair was now several shades lighter and parted down the middle in waves. But the way she carried herself, the way her head dropped as she stared at the floor, the way she fidgeted with her hands—there was nothing familiar about this awkward girl.

“Maybe I was mistaken,” I said, searching deep in her wide, brown eyes.

Her cheeks pinked, and she nodded stiffly. “U-um, are you playing, by the way?”

I shook my head and stood up. “Be my guest,” I said with a smile. “You were playing earlier too, weren’t you?”

Yongsun nodded meekly, as if she would be taking up too much space if she nodded any harder. “I-I had to pee.”

I raised a brow. “Um, okay. Are you the one who always plays at 3:25?”

“How did you know that?” she asked, incredulous.

“Why?”

“Excuse me?”

I clicked my tongue impatiently. “Why do you always play at 3:25?”

I could tell she didn’t really know how to handle my straightforwardness. I was bold, bolder still in these black and red shoes. She shifted her weight around uncomfortably for a moment, but answered anyway: “Um...I finish my shift at the bookstore at 3:15. I moved to a smaller place, so I don’t have a piano anymore. I like this guy.” She paused to touch the splintered, painted wood. “It just needs a bit of love.”

She smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Do you mind if I watch you play?” I asked.

“That’s fine,” she said.

As soon as she sat down, poised over the old piano, I saw that confident soldier under the moonlight. As soon as the music filled the air, I could hear the siren song of that enigmatic goddess.

Byulyi was right; she brought beauty into the world, and I told her so as the last note faded. I had no doubt in my mind that she was the destined recipient of the letter, and did not hesitate to shove it into her hands with a big, shit-eating grin. I was so confident that I’d accomplish the mission. I had it all planned out: Yongsun would ask me about Byulyi and I’d lead her there. They’d fall in love, and I’d get to take Wheein home.

So, of course, I didn’t expect stupid, fucking Moon Byulyi to not put her goddamn name on the letter. I didn’t expect Yongsun to read it right then and get all red in the face. I certainly didn’t expect her to smile, thank me, kiss me on the cheek, then run away.

It took me a good five minutes to recover from that shock and realized I should probably not let her out of my sight. By then, she already had a big head start, and I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for her anyway. I told myself I should at least try, but the scene with Wheein replayed in my head--we weren’t in a hurry it seemed. She wasn’t worried, so why should I be?

Worse comes to worst, I would find a fancy hotel to stay in and come back the next day at 3:25pm.

So I decided to wander, clear my head, and think of a better game plan.

The size of the campus was no joke. The discomfort of my fucking Louboutins was no joke. I aimlessly walked around in a big loop (and by big loop I meant around the library), and ended up sitting and staring out the window inside the first café I found, where I happily used my fancy black credit card to buy a fancy coffee. (I was so fancy I even paid extra for almond milk.)

As I sat there considering my options, Byulyi came in with Wheein on her tail. I met Wheein’s eye, though she turned away, pretending not to see me as she animatedly talked at Byulyi, who looked uncomfortable as fuck as she played with her cuffs, blushing a million shades of red.

I pictured Byulyi, so shy she could barely talk, and Yongsun, so gentle you could barely hear her. Clearly the two blushing fools were made for each other. The only problem was that Wheein looked perfectly content to stay in the way and be the third wheel.

There were only two other people sitting around in the café, but even if there were fifty other people, Byulyi and Wheein didn’t seem like they would care. They were lost in each other’s company, and didn’t pretend to hide it. Wheein even made a big show of grabbing Byulyi’s hand and lacing their fingers together, grinning so hard I thought her dimple might explode.

Suddenly, not even the fancy coffee seemed to be of any comfort. I was just about to leave when I caught a wave of brown hair in my peripheral, just passing by outside.

Kim Yongsun!

I was immediately out of my chair and on my feet as I frantically tapped the glass between us. “Hey!” I called, but she didn’t seem to hear me. I could feel everyone’s, including Wheein and Byulyi’s, eyes trained on me. I abandoned my expensive coffee and nearly tripped trying to get around my table.

In the background, Wheein called out to me. I couldn’t be sure; I wasn’t listening. I was already out the door and chasing after Yongsun.

Outside, I called out to her again. “Hey! You!” Her retreating back only got smaller, and I would never catch up even if I could run. So I did the only thing that a girl with a 4-inch pair of heels could do—I pried my right shoe off my foot and hurled it. It cut through the air in a beautiful arc, and landed right on her shoulder.

Smack!

She immediately ducked her head and screamed. (So loud I can still hear it in my memory.)

I quickly hobbled over to her in my one heel, and apologized (before some kind-hearted stranger called the police and have me arrested for assault), but she only looked at me in horror.

“Are you okay?” I asked, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck.

Her eyes were wide and her lips slightly parted as she nodded.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated with a bow. “I called you several times, but you were running so fast, and I can’t run in these heels. Not with all this snow around.”

Yongsun blushed. “I heard you,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands where the crumpled letter lay. I retrieved my shoe and gestured for her to continue, but she only blushed some more.

I quirked a brow. “Okay, well, um, can I buy you a coffee and make it up to you? I really just want to talk, I swear.”

She nodded, just a little more confidently this time, and stepped toward the door of the café behind us. I quickly grabbed her wrist, earning myself yet another little blush, and smiled. “Maybe not this place,” I said sheepishly.

“Why not?”

Yes, why not? I asked myself. Sitting down at this café and introducing Yongsun to Wheein and Byulyi would have been a one-way ticket back to the spirit realm. It would have been so easy.

At the same time, I didn't want to.

Maybe I was just pissed off. I knew I was being childish, but so was Wheein. It wasn't like Wheein would be jealous. She's never jealous.

I exhaled and watched the puff of white air dissipate in the cold. Turning to look inside the floor-to-ceiling window of the café, I noticed that everyone, including Byulyi and Wheein, were watching us with interest.

She’s never jealous right?

I stepped closer to Yongsun, put my lips to her ear, and whispered, “Everyone is watching us.”

Yongsun took a step back, blushing to the very tips of her ears. She opened and closed her mouth several times, glancing fervently between me and the eyes inside the café, but no words came out. Finally, I laughed and took her hand.

“Let’s just go back to the piano. I’ll buy you dinner later. How does that sound?” I said, flashing my most charming smile.

To my surprise, she didn’t avoid my gaze this time, nor did she withdraw her hand from mine. “That sounds great,” she said, returning my smile with a pretty one.

Without looking back, we walked back to the piano.

With my heels, I stood several inches taller than her, and it seemed to be the most natural thing in the world when she looped her arm through mine and leaned on me slightly. We walked by our reflections in the glass walls, and, damn, we looked good together. Me with my smouldering eyes and searing confidence (a by-product of the clothes I wore). Her with her pretty features and gentle aura.

“I have a confession to make,” I said as I led her toward the piano bench.

She turned to me with a shy smile as she pulled the letter out of her coat pocket. “I thought you’ve already made it.”

We sat down on the chipped, old bench, resting our backs against the keys.

“That’s the thing,” I said, gingerly pulling the letter from her fingertips. “I didn’t write this.”

Long, awkward moments passed as I watched Yongsun try to work out this seemingly unsolvable puzzle in her head. She blinked and gaped, her face turning pale, then pink. I noticed she had a dimple on the two corners of her bottom lip, especially when she made weird faces.

Finally, she clasped both hands over her face and groaned. “I’m so embarrassed,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be. It’s still meant for you.”

“Ah,” she said, finally dropping her hands. “I’ve made such a fool out of myself. I’m sorry.”

I chuckled, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “Don’t worry,” I said. “It was cute.”

I liked Yongsun’s reactions a lot. The way she ducked her head and tucked her hair behind her ear, as if retracing the path my fingers drew. I liked the way she couldn’t meet my eyes, as if looking into them would make her burst into flame. I felt attractive in these clothes, and in her presence. Like I was more than enough.

Wheein had always been my one and only angel. Even when she spent her Fridays with boys and Saturdays with girls, she would always save her Sundays for me, and I never thought I needed more. If I had her, I didn’t need anyone else.

Did I?

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, bringing me back down to reality. A reality where Yongsun studied me with those eyes--eyes so earnest and genuine I had to look away.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

I cleared my throat. “Of course.” The letter balanced across my open palms, and Yongsun was watching it intensely, expectant but uncertain. Lips pressed tight and drawn back, I could see the question written on her face. But she was waiting for me to make the first move, like it would be too rude to ask. “This letter,” I began, grinning when she leaned in just a little closer. “I’ll tell you when we have dinner tonight.”

“Aaaah! So unfair!” she exclaimed. I’d never peg her for the drama queen type, but she did not hesitate to collapse onto the keys behind her and play a cacophonic chord with her elbows. I laughed at the sight of her sprawled out like a kid with a tantrum, and checked my watch.

“It’s only a little after four-thirty, but maybe we can take a walk around the campus. There’s a nice pond here somewhere,” I said.

“Let’s stay here,” Yongsun replied.

(I remember breathing a sigh of relief. I don’t know why the hell I suggested that shitty little pond. Maybe it just seemed like something to do. Maybe because it was nice when I woke up in this world an hour ago.)

“Can you play?” she asked.

I shook my head. “But I like to sing,” I admitted.

She beamed like child at a birthday party, like I’d just told her the greatest secret there ever was. She asked me if I would sing along, and I was more than happy to. But then she asked me what I want to sing, I was immediately taken back to the orange Pony--Wheein in the back, singing “Love on Top” at the top of our lungs. I was taken back to the way she’d met my eyes in the rear-view mirror, and how we’d both smiled like nothing else mattered.

God, it felt so long ago.

“Love the Way You Lie,” I told Yongsun.

“Okay.”

The first keys hit soft and slow, and I was immediately lost. The lyrics flowed forward. I closed my eyes. “On the first page of our story,” I sang, “The future seemed so bright.”

I remembered what a different feeling it was when we sang it that morning--nothing so tragic--but it felt so raw and so real the moment I began to sing this with someone else. Someone other than Wheein and her busted guitar.

“Even angels have their wicked schemes,” I continued, rising out of my seat, “And you take that to new extremes.”

I didn’t know why it felt different this time around with Byulyi. It wasn’t news that my heart broke a little bit every time she left me, but I thought I was doing a good job protecting myself. “So maybe I’m a masochist. I try to run but I don’t ever leave.”

I closed my eyes as the notes slowed, the first cue for the rap. The morning, awakening--god, each line had us written all over it. Images flashed by as I grasped the air and felt each word falling out of my lips. Her sleeping face, her flaring eyes, our fights, our past, our present, our future.

When the song ended, I stood staring at my feet, breathing heavily. I didn’t know what kind of expression I wore, didn’t know what kind I was supposed to wear when I heard Yongsun ask if I was alright.

Before I could answer, a slow clap echoed off the concrete around us.

Both of us whipped around to see Wheein walking toward us. Byulyi dogged along awkwardly beside her. “So this is where you went, Hwasa,” Wheein said with a smile.

I was taken aback. Despite the plastered smile, there was something sinister about her, and about the way she pronounced that name. She looked the same as ever, but I felt every prick from her eyes.

“I’ve never seen you sing like that,” she said. “Where did you get all that passion?”

“Yongsun is a great piano player,” I lied, waving the letter.

Wheein stood before me now, toe to toe, defiant and pissed. She looked so pissed, in fact, that I could feel the red energy flowing off in waves. My instinct was to bend my knee and bow my head, give myself up to the fury of my angel even though I did nothing wrong. I didn't--as usual, I hid in my own brand of anger as I lifted my chin, and looked down at Wheein from my four-inch advantage.

“That’s our song, Ahn Hyejin,” Wheein whispered harshly into the space between us. “That’s our fucking song.”

I scoffed. It was, and I was defiant. I was tired of being cut open when I least expected it. Tired of being led around; tired of feeling around in the dark. I straightened my back and put my hands on my hips. “So what?” I said.

“How dare you?”

She was shaking, like something was about to grab her and slap the word vomit out of her. Her eyes, the way she stood, feet apart, hands in fists by her side—she looked ready to murder.

“How dare I what?” I replied. Maybe a part of me just wanted so badly for us to argue for real, and get these feelings out of the way, but something held us back. We were always speaking in code, hoping the other person would just understand. It was the fear, perhaps. Fear of losing each other, even when everything was falling apart around us.

Silence stretched as our telepathic wars continued. I glanced at Byulyi, who stood further than I remembered, looking as uncomfortable as ever.

“I don’t get why you’re upset,” I said, haughtier than I intended. “I can’t read your mind, Wheein.”

Her eyes narrowed and her knuckles turned white. Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. The tension was suffocating us both. There weren’t any words that could be said in that moment--nothing that could fix this. Not right now.

Past the overhang, it began to snow.

Wheein ran a hand over her face. A puff of white air escaped her lips, and that was the last sound she made before turning on her heel, her ponytail whipping across her neck, and walking away. Byulyi stepped behind her, following her like a lost puppy, but Wheein raised a hand and told her to get lost.

Byulyi stood there, as I did, watching her until she disappeared. I wondered if she felt as lost as I did then. Did she feel something tear through us? The damage felt permanent, and I felt it run right through my crippled soul. 

I met Byulyi’s eyes, and sighed. I reached up and brushed the inevitable tear with the back of my gloved hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing her neck awkwardly.

I waved it off, and offered Yongsun a hand. “Shall we go for an early dinner?” She took it with an uneasy smile and a confused glance at Byulyi. I craned my neck just in time to watch her try and slink off. “You,” I said, pointing. I curled a finger, beckoning her over. “You’re coming with us. No questions asked. I’m not in the mood for bullshit.”

We found a Korean restaurant at the edge of the campus, one of the few places open during the holidays. I didn’t dare venture too far off-campus, though I was convinced I’d be the kind of flashy idiot to drive a Maserati and park it in the most public place possible. We didn’t say much. Yongsun led the way, with Byulyi looking like she was trying to blend into the snow behind us.

Once Yongsun sat down, I took the seat across from her, then snapped and pointed at the seat beside Yongsun, ordering Byulyi around like it was the most natural thing to do in my position. Byulyi walked around the table and slowly lowered herself down, looking at Yongsun as if she was apologizing for her very existence.

(Yes, I take full responsibility for acting like the boss bitch I am. I fully admit that she was just a convenient punching bag at this point, and, sure, it wasn’t really her fault, but I hated her. She was the cause of everything that was wrong, and the pathetic way she carried herself didn’t help.)

I ordered for the three of us, and spent a good, long minute just studying the two of them side by side. Yongsun rested her chin in her hand, staring into space. Byulyi looked down at the table, her arms tucked in her lap.

“So,” I said, gesturing to Byulyi, “Introductions?”

(All this time, I’d been making an effort not to use the names I knew them by. I couldn’t be sure, then, whether their names are the same in every universe, and somehow we’d missed the opportunity to properly introduced ourselves. It’s fucking weird to be the least socially awkward person in a group.)

She got flustered almost immediately. “U-um, I…My name is M-Moon Byulyi…I major in l-literature.”

“Back straight,” I commanded, “look at me when you speak. I can barely hear you, for fuck’s sakes.” Yongsun looked at me with a mix of awe and something bordering on disgust, but I ignored her. Byulyi took a breath and sat up straight. Well, as straight as she could. 

Her eyes flickered back and forth between me and the table. “Sorry,” she said, “I’m not…g-good at talking.”

I quirked an eyebrow, leaned in just a little closer, and said, “And what about writing, hm? Writing letters perhaps?” I threw the letter unceremoniously on the table. “Wheein is not the girl you’re looking for.”

“Y-yes,” she whispered, sneaking a glance at Yongsun. “I see that now.” 

“Ah, I’m Kim Yongsun,” Yongsun blurted, scooting a little closer to Byulyi protectively. “I’m in music.” She was smiling, but challenging me at the same time. Clearly, she did not like the way I was treating Byulyi.

I don’t give a shit, I thought, smiling back politely.

“Ahn Hyejin. Business.”

“Of course,” Yongsun said. “You’re famous.”

I raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

Yongsun pulled out her phone to show me an article on Forbes. It was all in English, yet somehow I read and understood it perfectly. Turned out, I was more of a queen bitch than I thought, privileged in so many ways that I almost hated myself. Not only was I a genius and entrepreneur, but my father had somehow started a chain of successful restaurants. Born in Jeonju, but raised in Seoul, the only downside was never growing up with Wheein by my side.

Yet we woke up next to each other. We must’ve found each other somewhere somehow.

I didn’t ever want to consider the possibility of growing up in a world without Wheein by my side, but the way we keep clashing, the way I keep screwing up, trying to push her away and cling to her at the same time…

Growing up in Seoul without Wheein—is it possible that I was…better off?

I tried to shake the thoughts out of my head. I was so torn. I didn’t want to see her again so soon, but I also didn’t want to be comfortable in my furs. Sure, university was the perfect place to deconstruct every aspect of your life. Probably the perfect place to throw a fuckton of money in a pit to try and fail, create all this drama and sift through all this bullshit. Probably. How the fuck would I know?

My borrowed existence was pissing me off.

I just wanted to go home.

Wherever the hell that was.

“A-are you okay, Hyejin?” came Byulyi’s stupidly gentle voice, snapping me back to reality. She bowed deeply then, and said, “I’m sorry, um, for messing things up between you and your girlfriend.”

I threw my head back and laughed it all out. Didn’t give a shit when the waitress came with the food—weird looks and all—and sure as hell didn’t give a shit when Yongsun and Byulyi gaped until it crossed the line of propriety.

“D-did I say something wrong?” Byulyi whispered to Yongsun.

Yongsun gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “No, don’t worry too much.”

Once the hysterics finally subsided, I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye, and gestured to the food, urging them to eat. “God,” I said, falling back against the scratchy upholstery, “this dinner was supposed to be about the two of you.” I picked the letter back up from when I had thrown it earlier—nobody dared to touch it—and held it up in my hand, elbow anchored on the table. “Let’s do this again.”

I handed the letter to Byulyi, who received it with both hands with a bow. I gave her a half-smile. “Convey your feelings properly this time,” I said, picking up my chopsticks, “and don’t make the same mistakes I made. Just be brave and say what you have to say.”

With trembling hands, Byulyi pulled the letter out of its crumpled envelope, and straightened its edges out against the table. She cleared her throat, and looked at Yongsun, who watched her with interest. (How cute, I thought with just the slightest tinge of bitterness as I watched the pink creep into their cheeks. Outwardly, I continued to eat in nonchalant silence.)

“M-Miss Piano Woman,” Byulyi began to read. She paused, closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths. Then she folded the letter in half. My eyes widened a little when she took one of Yongsun’s hands and placed the letter directly into her open palm. She folded her fingers over the paper, then pulled away. A few more breaths later, she finally managed to look Yongsun in the eye.

“I…I work in the library,” she said, looking up at Yongsun through her bangs. “I always hear students m-messing around with the piano, but once in a while people play beautifully. I’ve…ah, no, I mean…you also play beautifully. Your music is so unlike anything else. And I know it’s you, not only because you always play at 3:25, but the way you play is always…t-t-transcendent. It grips my soul and it just…I can’t explain it. Today, um, I finally had the courage to tell you that I-I-I...you...that you...that you have a fan right here. B-but, ah, it looks like I made a big mess.”

I facepalmed at the almost confession.

Yongsun grinned, seemingly oblivious. She kept the sheet of paper in her hand, and did not bother to open it. “I-it’s a little different. From what you wrote,” she said sheepishly. “B-but I understand how you feel…I think.”

The two idiots, turned to each other, didn’t seem like they knew where to look. Their eyes roamed from each other’s faces, to the food, to me, to their own hands. They were both so flustered, like it was their first time dealing with anything in a romantic capacity.

(Meanwhile, I did not hesitate to steal their food while they channeled their 5-year-old selves and tried to figure out what this strange feeling was and all that crap. I could almost hear their internal dialogue. It’s probably on the lines of a) oh my god, what is this feeling, or b) holy crap, she’s a woman and this feels so right and so wrong. There is also a slight possibility of c) fuck this is so awkward with Hyejin watching us while stuffing her face.)

Now, here was the issue. Neither Wheein nor I could figure out how much love there had to be between Byulyi and Yongsun in order to be sent back. Unlike the previous universe, they’d just met. The possibility of a “true love’s kiss” was slim to none. The possibility of sex between these grade-schoolers were probably -7000%.

I dreaded the thought of having to continue living as Ahn Hyejin, GSB. I couldn’t imagine going back to school for god knows how long while I waited for these two to have their first kiss. Taking graduate level classes, being a wealthy heiress, being in a complicated and awkward relationship with Wheein. All of that. Fucking scary. And that doesn't even include the practical concerns of borrowing someone's lives indefinitely. (Is it credit card fraud if your alternate reality self possesses your body and spends a buttload of your money?)

No, I needed a plan.

While they were still talking about music and books and boring things like common interests and whatever else people small talk about, I cleared my throat and excused myself to the bathroom.

Okay, so creeping on them by the bathroom hallway wasn’t the most genius plan, but I hoped it would be something nonetheless, even if they just talked shit about me while I was away. (A waitress passed by and asked if I was alright--I glared until she left. Eventually, I snuck a seat in an empty booth and peered at them over a menu.)

Fifteen minutes and a few questioning glances toward the bathroom later, neither of them looked any more comfortable than when I’d left. When I finally got up and returned to my seat (my eyes rolling so hard I actually felt a little lightheaded), they were still talking about meaningless crap. Something pretentious about literature and music. They welcomed me back with a smile and continued on.

I nodded and continued eating, trying my best to look as uninterested in their conversation as possible. Fortunately, neither of them seemed to particularly give a shit about my plans for the future. (I was not ready for that conversation.)

“What are you taking next semester?” Yongsun asked Byulyi. Her chopsticks poked at the cold food on her plate for the sake of something to do during this clearly riveting conversation.

“Um, I-I don’t really know yet. I kind of want to take a semester off.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I just want to write. I-I...I’m working o-on a novel right now.”

Yongsun brightened up. Finally, something interesting, her face said. “What kind of novel?” she asked.

Byulyi fidgeted with her napkin on the table. “It’s...I...I…”

“Lesbian erotica?” I offered with a grin.

I don’t think there are enough words in the dictionary for me to describe the wonderfully flustered reaction of Moon Byulyi. I couldn’t do it justice, even if I made up words. God, she was so red, and her hands frantically waved so hard I thought she was going to sprain herself. “N-n-no, no, no, no,” she stuttered, as I clutched my sides laughing.

“Hyejinssi!” Yongsun stretched across the table and slapped me lightly in the arm. Where did that shy pianist go? I wondered as I laughed harder. “Let her explain herself.”

“I-It’s okay, unnie,” Byulyi said, clutching her face. “She’s...not wrong.”

Wow.

Yongsun and I--our jaws must’ve dropped through the seven gates of Hell. “Sorry, what?” I asked. Maybe I heard it wrong. This little mouse couldn’t possibly--

“You’re not wrong,” Byulyi said. “I’m, um, I’ve published...underground mostly. In magazines...d-don’t...don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Can I...read them?”

No, believe it or not, I didn’t say that. Yongsun, staring hard at the empty bowl in front of her, blushing like mad, asked Byulyi. I don’t think any of us moved for an eternity. Byulyi nodded mutely. She asked Yongsun for the letter, and pulled a pen from her backpack. After scribbling down what looked like a web address, she handed the letter back.

“I p-post some of my w-works here.”

Yongsun thanked her, then resumed their posts on either side of the table, all red and awkward as they stared down at their own hands for the remainder of the meal.

Perhaps I’ve underestimated these two.

Outside after dinner, under the wintry sky, I tried my second plan.

“Hey,” I said, shoving my hands into my fur-lined pockets. We were walking toward the main parkade, where I hoped to find my car. From a few steps ahead, they turned and watched me expectantly. “Can you guys do me a favour?”

Yongsun smiled uneasily. “Depends what it is.”

“I’ll give you,” I paused to rummage through my bag for my wallet, “₩100, 000. Each.” I pulled the bills out of my wallet, and flashed them with my most charming, manipulative smile.

Eyebrows immediately shot up.

“This isn’t some weird kink thing, is it?” Yongsun asked.

I chuckled. “I can’t tell you.” They wouldn’t believe me anyway. “It isn’t difficult. I just want you guys to kiss. On the lips.”

“R-right now?” Byulyi asked, sharing an uncomfortable and clearly conflicted look with Yongsun. She took a step back, and looked ready to run, like I’d just exposed her deepest and darkest desires.

I smirked. “Even kids can do something like this,” I said. I stepped forward and surprised Yongsun with a peck on the lips. She yelped, and waved me away, looking more red with anger than embarrassment. I just laughed as I watched Byulyi’s jaw unhinge.

“Well?” I asked.

They blushed some more. I rolled my eyes some more.

Yongsun raised a hand. “I'll do it.”

Byulyi looked like she was about to pass out when Yongsun timidly tugged her arm, pulling her closer toward her. She tiptoed just a bit, and planted her lips firmly onto Byulyi’s. She pulled away so quickly that Byulyi didn't even get the chance to close her eyes. In fact, Byulyi’s brain seemed to have malfunctioned altogether as she stood there, mouth slightly open, and eyes staring straight into what must've been the gates of Heaven.

I applauded her bravery with three slow claps, then handed her two ₩50, 000 bills. To my surprise, she shook her head and refused it.

I didn't think about the implications of that right then, because, while this was all well and good, I was still here. Plan number two was a failure. Now I knew that kisses weren’t the answer. Hopefully, this would at least speed things up.

We parted ways as soon as we reached the parkade, where a royal blue Quattroporte awaited us at the entrance--the only luxury car in the lot (well, honestly, almost the only car in the lot--it was winter break). They looked at me like they wanted a ride home in that sweet all-leather four-seater, but I just gave them a look and a wave and sent them on their way. They get to spend more quality time together. I was just helping them out. (And maybe I just wanted to enjoy this baby on my own for a while.)

I speculated spending the night in my car, but I didn't want to risk anything by staying on campus, so I decided to look for a hotel (bless my expensive GPS).

On the way out, I was lucky (or unlucky) enough to find Wheein sitting dejectedly at a bus stop. She was shivering in her sweater and clutching her stomach. It was already dark, she looked more tired than I’d ever seen her. Though I was still mad and confused, I didn't have the heart to ignore her. 

“Wheeinie,” I said, rolling down my window. “Come, you'll catch a cold.”

She glared and scoffed and looked away.

“Let’s go somewhere warm.”

She refused to meet my eyes. Under the lamplight, I could see the red edges.

“Wheein,” I said firmly.

She stared at the ceiling of the shelter like it contained all the answers she needed. Her jaw clenched tight and her arms dug deep in her pockets; she tried to hide the chatter and the shivers.

Finally, with a groan, I stepped out of the Maserati and onto the curb. I opened the passenger door and gestured. When she refused further, stomped over and shoved one arm under her knees, the other wrapping itself around her shoulder as I picked her up--bridal style.

She screeched and kicked, of course, but I caught the slightest blush deepening her already pink cheeks, and smirked. I lowered her inside, buckled her up, and closed the door. It would have been so easy for her to run away. Good thing my car was warm and she was a block of ice in every sense.

She seemed perfectly adamant to continue her silent sulking for the rest of the ride, but I figured we should talk business, if nothing else. “The kiss doesn’t work,” I told her quietly, turning down the car radio. (I’d forgotten it was even on until I spoke).

“What?” Wheein said, looking at me like she couldn't recognize me. With one hand on the door, she twisted her upper body to face me almost completely. Her voice was demanding, accusing. “What did you do?” 

I told her, of course, down to the last detail. Her reaction, well, let’s just say she wasn’t jumping for joy.

“Are you out of your mind?” she cried, slapping me across the shoulder. “You can’t just do whatever you want because you have money!”

“Ack! You don't have to hit me! I'm driving! And it was just an experiment. You're the one who talked about true love’s kiss and all that. They're true loves right?”

Wheein swiped at her bangs out of her face angrily. “I know that. You know that,” she mumbled. “You think they know that?”

“Shit.”

We pulled up in a nearby hotel (with valet parking!) and went up to the front desk. I raised a brow when Wheein asked for a room with two separate beds, but I only nodded and handed the receptionist my card.

“Please fill in this form and sign here and here.”

I looked at Wheein. Panicked mirrored in her eyes. For a moment, we genuinely worried about being able to bullshit something legitimate enough to pass for a suitable address. Thankfully, I remembered the IDs tucked away in my wallet, and quickly copied down my address (somewhere expensive I’m sure--it sure as hell wasn’t a neighbourhood I’d visit often). Then I signed and hoped to hell my signature was the same in every universe.

Weirdly, it wasn’t the same, but I knew exactly how to sign my name. (I thought back to that moment on the roof, when I magically knew how to tie a knot. There must’ve been some sort of muscle memory involved in these instances.)

When we got to our room, I threw my bag onto the armchair and went straight for the bed on the far end. With my arms raised above my head, I let myself freefall down into the soft sheets, then kicked off my heels, sending them tumbling black and red across the carpet.

Just as I was about to close my eyes, I heard Wheein quietly calling my name.

“Hyejin-ah,” she said. “I’m...hungry.”

She stood, one hand clutching her hanging arm, not meeting my eyes. The way she spoke--it was as if she was ashamed.

“Why don’t you get something then?” I said, sitting up.

She slipped the portfolio bag off her shoulder and pulled out a wallet. It was black, frayed at the edges, and had a broken zipper that wouldn't close. She flipped it upside down to show me its contents: ₩300 in coins, a restaurant toothpick, and two bobby pins. No bank cards, no credit cards. I hadn’t noticed how worn her shoes looked until then.

Wheein said nothing, her bottom lip wobbling as she collected her meager possessions. Every time her lips moved, every time they tried to form a sound, a word, I felt a squeeze to my stomach.

She looked more fragile, more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her before.

I got up and wrapped her up in my arms, holding her tight against my chest. She was so cold. “It’s okay,” I whispered into her hair. “You can tell me anything, you know that. Let’s just order room service, okay? You can get whatever you want.”

We waited for the food in silence, sitting on Wheein’s bed, wrapped up in each other's arms like it was the last time--lost in the mazes of our own thoughts.

Once the food arrived, I sat across from her in our little dining nook. I shoved the vase of flowers to one side so I could comfortably rest my elbow on the table as I watched her eat. God, she must’ve been ravenous.

“How the hell did we wake up together?” I thought out loud. “How did we find each other?”

Wheein shrugged, and slurped down a huge mouthful of pasta. “We’re soulmates. We find our way,” she said nonchalantly in between bites.

“You think so?” I asked. The thought had crossed my mind before, but it felt strange to hear it out loud. We have been together through thick and thin. Even when the world was against us, at least we were together.

For how long, I don’t know. Even if we were destined to be together, does that mean we get to be together for the rest of our lives? Surely, that’s something only kids say because no one really knows how long that really is.

“The question is,” she said, “how did we end up so different?”

I told her about the article I read online, and I tried to tell her that sometimes it was just the luck we were born into.

But she just leaned back, placed her fork down on the table, and looked at me. For a long time, she simply studied me like she was searching for something. “What?” I asked, crossing one leg over the other. She hadn’t said a word since I began talking about the article--just sat there deep in thought.

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “You are...so perfect.”

I quirked a brow and hoped I wasn’t blushing. “It’s just chance.”

She shook her head again.

“Hyejin?”

“What?”

“We should stop sleeping together.”

My heart must’ve exploded, but I couldn’t hear anything after that. How can anyone accurately describe the sound of everything they’ve ever known falling at their feet? The worst part is, well, it was never supposed to be romantic. I was supposed to be okay with this.

I must’ve nodded. Must’ve vowed some vow of eternal friendship. Must’ve lied about how nothing will change between us.

We went to sleep in our separate beds, and it was cold as hell.

\---

The days that followed were as awkward as you can possibly imagine.

First things first: I had 12 days to bring Byulyi and Yongsun together, or I'll be finding myself sitting in some graduate level business seminar screaming my head off. Yes, out loud. I had to get out of here before school started. (As fun as it might sound, I really didn’t want to stand around and watch myself fuck up my alt-life. Sure, I hated my alt-self for having all the privilege in the world, but can you imagine waking up one morning to find your bank account depleted, your position destroyed, and your friends and girlfriend all hating your guts? Ok, so I’m being a little dramatic, but you never know what can happen in a few days.)

The first few days was an utter wreck. On the first night, I carried my broken heart with me to the hotel bar, then found some pretty stranger at the bottom of the barrel and took her back to my room. I hardly remember what happened after Wheein came back that day--I was too drunk to care. Clothes, shoes, and words no one meant were thrown out the door. I woke up in the stranger’s room the next day with my key card slipped under the door. Spent the rest of that morning and afternoon sleeping off that hangover. I was still feeling disgusting by the time night fell, but I knew I wouldn't be able to be in the same room as Wheein, so I hit the club before she came back from wherever the hell she went during the day.

I was wasted for three nights in a row. 

On the morning of the fourth day, I woke up on a bench by that shitty pond. All I wore was a slutty dress and a slutty jacket I bought last afternoon, but I couldn’t feel the cold. Couldn’t feel the snow all over my face. Wasn’t even sure if my heart was still beating. All I could feel was the pounding in my head.

“Hyejin?” Someone said.

I didn’t move. Just watched the snowflakes swirl down.

“Jesus Hyejin, you’re going to freeze out here!”

Someone threw a warm jacket over me and pulled me up to a sitting position. Like a lifeless doll, I just stared ahead and allowed myself to be manipulated as whoever saw fit. It took a few minutes for me to recognize the frantic voice, the light, clean scent, and the chestnut hair.

“Yongsun?”

The slight wrinkles in her concerned face reminded me that I only had 8 more days, and the realization hit me like a barrelling truck. I was a complete and utter mess, but her presence thawed me just a bit.

“Yongsun!” I cried, throwing my arms around her neck.

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to contact you,” she said, pulling away just to give me a stern look.

“How is Byulyi?” I asked.

I didn’t miss the slight blush. “How would I know?” she said, though her darting eyes told a different story.

We spent that afternoon on the campus cafe catching up. She was picking up textbooks after her morning shift, and was on her way to spend some time with the piano when she saw me lying there by the pond. I told her I had no memory of going to the pond. I told her everything that happened over the last few days, if only for the sake of hearing the truth from my own lips--I couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen, couldn’t pretend it didn’t affect me the way it did. She listened patiently with her hands folded on the table and a steaming cup of tea by her side.

Finally, I took a breath and laid my head on the table, drained to the core.

“I know I’m not in any position to say anything, but Hyejin-ah, I think Wheeinssi loves you very much.”

“I don’t really want to talk about this anymore,” I said quietly. “Thank you for listening, unnie.”

Yongsun beamed at the honorific, and I had to laugh. She was so easy to please, and I liked her for that.

“How are things with Byulyi?” I asked with a smirk. I didn’t miss the pink blush creeping to her cheeks.

Turns out, things were going better than expected. (Thank god for that because I was in no mood to go through that painful small talk phase again.) While I was drunk out of my fucking mind, they met up a few times since I last saw them. Yongsun admitted that she enjoyed Byulyi’s writing. “It’s literature,” she insisted. Porn is porn, I told her with a smirk, tasteful or not.

“She’s cute, smart, talented, and likely really good in bed,” I teased. “I could use a girl like her right now.”

“Don’t say that! That letter was for me,” she said. I just kept on smirking until she got so flustered and riled up that she had to go to excuse herself to the bathroom while I laughed until I cried.

I don’t know if Byulyi deserved a girl like Yongsun, but I had to admit they were cute. They just needed to see that so they could hurry up and fuck before school starts.

Over the next several days, I planted seed after seed into their minds, in hopes something will blossom soon. I spent my mornings bugging Byulyi in the library, then my afternoons with Yongsun in the cafe after her shift at the bookstore. I arranged little dates for the three of us, then cancelled on them last minute just to follow them around and see what they were up to. Every time they brushed their fingertips, I wanted to cheer. Every time they missed each other’s cues, I wanted to go and punch Byulyi in the face. (I could never hurt the sweet Yongsun.) I followed them to restaurants, to movies, to malls, but it wasn’t enough. By my expert calculations, it would probably take several million years for them to discover their love and learn to make love. And I only had five more days.

Drastic times called for drastic measures.

One night, I invited both of them to my hotel room. Wheein was out as usual. (We were still trying our damned hardest to avoid each other.) I insisted it was a wine and cheese night, and even sent them a picture of random poetry books I bought to prove it. 90% wine, and 10% cheese. My only plan was to goad them into drinking until they forget about the cheese and start tearing each other’s clothes off. I had a list of drinking games tucked in the pocket of my brand new suit.

(I started shopping every evening until all the stores closed. It first began as a way to avoid Wheein, but then it just got addicting. Who the fuck needed a burgundy suit? I did. And it was tailor-made. That way, I could kill a ton of time while I got measured.)

Now who would have guessed that Yongsun would be so against drinking? She took her first glass and nibbled at the rim like it was a precious cheese. You would have to measure the contents with a ruler to notice she’d drank any at all.

I tried demanding. “Finish your drink,” I said.

“No, I get drunk easily,” she said.

“That’s the point.”

But she just shook her head, picked up one of the books and pretended to read. They were in French, so I knew she couldn’t read it, but it didn’t stop the idiot from furrowing her brows and faking deep appreciation.

“Drink more!” I demanded, slapping the book out of her hand.

She picked it up calmly. “No.”

“Do it.”

“Hyejin-ah! Why is it so hard for you to take no for an answer?”

I tried peer pressure: “Byulyi-ah, tell her.”

I tried begging. “Please, unnie, I'll never ask for anything else.”

She kept refusing. And it didn't help that Byulyi was happily downing the wine like she’d been thirsty all her life (and from the way she was looking at Yongsun, I had no doubts about that). It wasn’t hard convincing her to drink more, especially since she seemed determined to do it anyway. Meanwhile Yongsun looked like she was on standby, ready to do some emergency mothering.

Three glasses later, the gentle author was nowhere in sight.

“Yongsun-ah, when did you get this pretty?” she slurred, reaching out to touch Yongsun’s chin, only to miss and fall off her chair. She was gross, but, from the way Yongsun flew to her side, I was the only one who thought so.

Since the good unnie refused to drink, and Byulyi was being a disgusting flirt, I left the room on the pretense of getting ice. I spent 25 minutes standing around, looking at my nails, scuffing the toes of my slippers across the carpet. Getting ice, dumping out the ice, then getting more ice. When I came back, I fully expected at least one person to be naked.

To my surprise, they’d found themselves under the covers. Fully clothed. Sleeping like babies in my bed. I wanted to throw them out the window. But, of course, they had to be cute. Byulyi’s head was tucked under Yongsun’s chin, while Yongsun’s hand was tangled up in Byulyi’s hair. I could get a cavity just looking at them.

So why the hell was I still here?

Dejectedly, I drank the rest of the wine and left the room.

I don’t quite remember how I got there, but I woke up in a lounge chair by the pool the next morning. (I had a long pep talk with myself after that. No more drinking until this mission was over.) I went back to my room and was surprised to see the room spotless. Wheein bed looked totally untouched. On my bedside table, there was a note:

Sorry about last night. -MB

Damn straight she should be sorry.

4 more days, and I was fucked. I could only imagine how much easier this would’ve been if Wheein hadn’t suddenly decided to leave me. Even though I had every luxury in the world, time was not one of them. Fuck Wheein, I told myself. We were going back whether she liked it or not.

I tried a few more plans. (I have to admit that I became obsessed with them. I got lost in plotting these romances, if only to salvage what I knew about love.) I bought flowers for Yongsun on behalf of Byulyi. I locked them up in a karaoke room. I even tried spiking Yongsun’s drink, but she caught me (Byulyi was pissed. Actually, everyone was pissed. I wasted a whole day begging and buying forgiveness because no one wanted to talk to me after that.) Yes, some ideas were far better than others, but none of them seemed to work.

Finally, as the three of us stood in front of my hotel on the last day, Yongsun clamped down on my shoulder, and said, “Enough, Hyejin.”

I hadn’t said anything, so I simply raised a brow. I was ready to resign to my fate, ready to fuck up yet another life. I hadn't expected Yongsun to do anything about that.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish, but stop trying to hook us up.” Byulyi stood behind Yongsun, like she wanted to back her up, but didn’t want to at the same time. She stepped forward then back, restless. Her hands seemed to be trying to twist every ounce of courage out of her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

Yongsun sighed, and dropped her arm from my shoulder. She looked at me with warmth--there was no anger or disappointment. More like pity than anything else. “I know you want the best for us, but you have to let us do things at our own pace. You can’t decide other people’s lives just because you have money, Hyejinie.”

Now that pissed me off. “This doesn’t have anything to do with money,” I said defensively.

“It's okay,” she said gently. “I know that you mean well, but Byulyi and I,” she paused to look at the girl, who returned the look with an uneasy smile, “we need to go at our own pace. I mean, we just met.”

I furrowed my brows. “But I know you like each other.”

Yongsun looked away, a blush creeping up her neck. “W-well I don't know about that. It's not that easy.”

“Why not?” I shouted.

“Um, well, r-relationships are--”

“U-u-un-unnie!” Byulyi interrupted. Her syllables came out in a soft crecendo, as if she’d been trying for minutes to get our attention. The little voice behind Yongsun stepped forward then, and gently spun Yongsun around by the forearm. Her face was all red, but I'd never seen her look so determined and alive than when she took a deep breath and said, “Maybe it can be that easy. Kim Yongsun, I l-like you. I've liked you since the beginning.”

Yongsun took her hand, got lost in her eyes.

I faded into the background.

“I...I like you too.”

\---

I must've blinked sometime during that confession.

The hotel, the traffic, the people milling about--gone. There was nothing but silence, just like that. My fur coat, my bag, my shoes--gone. It was just me in my old clothes, laying on my back, staring up at the moon and the sun engraved in the ceiling once again, and holding nothing but air in my hands. I didn’t know if it was a lapse in my memory, but I could’ve sworn the moon and the sun looked different. Like they were just the slightest bit closer together.

Moving engravings? I rubbed my eyes and looked around for Wheein. I turned my head and caught the dark head rising above the edge of the bed as Wheein sat up, rubbing the side of her head. With a palm flat on the sheets, I pushed myself up and met her eyes.

I must’ve gasped just a little too loudly by the way her expression darkened, her red-rimmed eyes darting away. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days. I scrambled off the bed and knelt down beside her, taking a hand between my own. They were the same hands I’d always held, but something felt different, alien. “What happened to you?” I whispered. Perhaps the better question was, “Where have you been?” or "Why did you leave me?" But I didn’t ask those questions. Didn’t want to seem as desperate as I felt.

She didn’t say anything for a long time. I pestered and pestered her, but I couldn’t get a word out of her. I wanted to hold her so badly with the way she looked, but I no longer knew where our boundaries laid. I didn’t know anything about us anymore.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” I finally pleaded. I sat down on the floor close to her, my hands tucked in my lap, though they itched to be somewhere else, somewhere closer, more comforting. But they just lay there useless as I tried to figure out the rules of this game.

Finally, she sighed. The first sound she made since I’d seen her nearly two weeks ago.

“You were lucky, Hyejin,” she said evenly. “I wasn’t.” There was no expression, no emotion. Just facts. Like she’d spent a long time distancing herself from the situation. Perhaps she was just numb. I couldn’t tell, but even though I was worried as fuck, all I could do was simply nod.

I chuckled nervously. “Very few people are--”

“No, you don’t understand,” she said, “I didn’t have anything. I went to my address, and all I got was a confused family. That world’s Wheein...I think I was homeless. I had a scholarship and nothing else. I couldn’t even find anything about my parents.”

I crossed my arms, unsure what to say. I chewed my lip to fill the silence. “Is that where you went?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

Wheein closed her eyes and folded over to drape her arms across her knees. “No,” she said, running a hand over her face. She continued slowly, reluctantly, as if it pained her to tell her story: “I was working. I had to eat. That day we met Byulyi, she told me her family runs a restaurant. So after that...night,” she met my eyes for a moment and I could feel my heart shattering all over again, “I begged Byulyi to get me a job, so I washed dishes. Just for a couple of meals. You didn’t seem to care anyway.”

I shot out of my seat, faster than a bolt from the fucking blue, and stood over her, arms straight down my sides as I shouted, “Of course I fucking care! Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you!”

As soon as I spoke, tears poured down my face. Right from the start, I was ugly-crying as I waited for her response. She waited for me to calm down, just enough to let her voice through, speaking so softly and evenly she could’ve passed for peaceful, though I did not miss the resentment.

“I didn’t want your charity, Hyejin. It wasn’t yours to give.”

The more resigned she looked about the whole thing, the more I babbled and cried and felt like such a fucking loser for getting so stuck in my head. I cried about everything.

What a privilege I had, getting smashed every day just to run away. My biggest problem was, what? My best friend confirming something I already knew? That we were just friends, and it wasn’t her fault I got caught up in it. Then I cried about my mission and how I’d blamed Wheein for making it hard on me. I thought it was so damn important to come back here for the sake of coming back, while Wheein was trapped. If I hadn’t been there, what would’ve happened to her? How could I have been so oblivious? How could I let my angel suffer? 

“You did nothing wrong.” I dimly heard Wheein say through the whirl of thoughts and the loud sniffling. She touched my arm lightly, looked me in the eyes, and, as if she could read my thoughts through my pupils, she said, “You can’t change everything, Hyejin. Some things just aren’t about you.”

I stood dumbfounded for I don’t even know how long. I shut down, the tears running silently down my cheek and neck.

The bathroom door slammed in the distance.

I went out to the hallway to pace, calm down, and get some air. When I came back, Wheein was in bed, fast asleep. I climbed into my side of the bed, a canyon between us, and watched her sleeping face. I watched and I regretted until I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for the support and the kudos so far. 
> 
> The shoe throwing scene was inspired by another fanfic called Hwal Bin Dang by ashensprites. I just think thought it was so cute. 
> 
> Please don't hesitate to reach out to me for questions, comments, or concerns. Hyejin and I are continuously growing, and I hope you will continue to support us :)


	4. The Third Door

THE THIRD DOOR

Time. There was so much of it. What do you do when time stops for you? Is it possible to keep growing, changing, evolving when you’re standing still? Or maybe you just slowly drown in the sand at the bottom of the hourglass. Even if you didn’t know you were drowning yet.

I laid on the bed, my hand trying to press against the engraving on the ceiling. I considered my outline, and my battle with endless time. I stared hard, as if I could magically see through every skin cell--I wanted to know if I was getting older. I wanted to know if time has truly stopped for me. Maybe even then, I still had time to grow.

The anger and just so much fucking sadness fought inside me ever since I came back to the spirit realm. They fought so hard I could barely tell them apart.

Wheein was sitting by the dining table, perched with her guitar on her lap. She played chord after chord, but no music came through. I silently admired the beauty of these sounds, and how easy it was to build them into a song, but how impossible it was when you didn’t have the heart to. Some things just couldn’t be forced.

We hadn’t spoken since I bawled my eyes out at my own fucking naivety. I was still so physically and emotionally drained from all the tears I lost. We must’ve looked like strangers from the outside, lifeless strangers with too much time on their hands, and I didn’t like it. I hated this, hated myself for not knowing what to say. I felt like everything I had to say was useless, just empty words. I wanted her to break the silence, but there was something so goddamn tragic in the way she looked at me whenever I caught her eye. We couldn’t run from each other physically, so we ran away inside our thoughts, tucking away any emotion we had just to hide them from each other.

Byulyi still did not show up, though there was a white square now on the wall next to the red one. I sat up and stared at the wall for a long time. The white square against the white wall. It looked like it was trying to blend in. Why was it even here? What the hell was the point? I wondered. Why did it try so hard?

Wheein stopped playing and just sat there looking at the long, glass table for a while, staring at the food with lifeless eyes.

The silence was worse than the chords that refused to turn into song.

“Did you sleep well?” I said, barely able to recognize my own raspy voice.

Wheein nodded.

And the silence was back.

I was starting to feel like even my breathing was getting too loud, so I was probably more relieved than I should’ve been when Wheein stood up and went into the walk-in closet, soundlessly closing the door behind her. I went and took a shower for the second time since I woke up. Just for the sake of something to do (and maybe I just wanted to feel clean again, like it could magically fix this stain on our relationship).

When it became clear that Byulyi wasn’t coming, I gathered up my courage, told myself that this awkwardness was temporary--I just had to reach out, grab it by the horns, and smash it to the ground. I stood at the closet door and knocked.

“Wheein-ah,” I softly called through the shuttered doors. “We should go.”

No response.

I pulled one side open, and poked my head through. It was a mess, like someone had gone around the perimeter of the room and yanked out every second piece of clothing, just to toss it onto the floor. Shoes, hats, and accessories joined the carpet of mixed cloth like a trail of crumbs.

I called out to Wheein again. No response.

With a sigh, I pushed myself through and walked down the path of discarded clothes. One step met furs, and another met cotton. Nylon, polyester, fleece, silk, something soft, something scratchy--all of these took turns surprising my bare feet at every step.

In the centre of the giant closet was a large, circular ottoman. I think it was orange. I knew this because I had seen it the last time we were here, when I’d tackled Wheein onto it and kissed her all over, dressed only in little costume capes. Now, there were clothes all over it, all around it, built up like a fortress. As I drew closer, Wheein’s hair came into view, scattered all over her sleeping face. Several sweaters and robes rose up and down with her breathing.

I peered over, brushed her hair off her forehead, and kissed her brow.

Then I turned and left.

There were so many things I could’ve done then, but I hated myself for all the things I’d been doing. I didn’t want to keep screwing up. The longer I stayed in Wheein’s presence, the more I felt like I was somehow holding her back. Maybe it was this one-sided lust, this insatiable desire to be right up against her, so close that every vibration fell in perfect synchronization. Maybe it was this goddamn love. The kind that I wasn’t supposed to feed.

I couldn’t hide it from myself anymore. I realized I’d been stupid to think I’ve been protecting myself, when all I was really doing was play-fighting my demons after letting them cuff me down. I loved Wheein in a way that I could love no one else. I was so in love with her that I couldn’t be myself without her. Without her, I was nothing. And I would rather be celibate for life than lose her friendship forever.

Even if I never touched her again, I needed my best friend by my side.

I had to leave. I had to get out of that white room--the silence was too loud to think--and wean myself off of Wheein’s kindness. I had to fix our friendship above all else, and I couldn’t do that without fixing myself.

The next door was going to be my chance, and I was going to take it myself, if only to prove that I could exist by Wheein’s side without dragging her down.

That I could be more than nothing.

I roamed down the red hall by myself for the first time, looking for the single door with a doorknob. It was a strange feeling, being so utterly alone for the first time in my life. It made every other moment of loneliness I’ve ever experienced feel nonexistent--like I’d just made them all up. The hall never seemed longer, dimmer, as I searched for the door. Not once did I wonder what would be waiting for me on the other side.

It didn’t seem to matter.

I stopped several doors past the door with the stained glass piano. (I paused briefly to see if I could catch a glimpse of the old piano through the frosted glass. In my mind’s eye, I could see Yongsun playing the most beautiful music in the world. Byulyi would stand behind her, mesmerised, and she would clap and cheer and kiss her, full of love and pride, no matter how many mistakes she made. Ugh. They were so sweet it was gross--even in my own fantasies.)

The door I found was simple, and gaudy as hell. The yellow paint and blue frame gave it a retro vibe, but the bright clashing colours told me it was probably a reject in its own time. At the centre, in bold red, was kiss mark, as if a giant had stooped down and kissed this reject door.

I turned the knob and didn’t think twice.

\--

My eyes fluttered open, and the first thing I saw was a stretch of white laminate extending from my eyes to the wall. I rolled my shoulders back, and lifted my cheek from the surface. If the vertigo from jumping into a new soul wasn’t enough, the assault of colours on my eyes wasn’t exactly helping.

I was sitting in a booth. The white tabletops were metal edges and the red vinyl booths looked like props from old American movies. The walls were a robin’s egg blue, and the decor--random license plates, framed photos of celebrities, and memorabilia--were just as erratic. I’d never seen a 1950s diner in person before, but I could only assume this was as close as it could get. The whole place felt electric and random as fuck, and if that wasn’t my style, I didn’t know what was. Nothing like a bunch of ugly shit coming together and pretending to be beautiful. In its own way, it really was beautiful.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the glowing jukebox, the neon letters above the coffee bar, and the tacky-as-fuck antlers mounted on the wall above my table.

Before me was a pile of paperwork, a giant calculator, and several chewed up pencils.

“Hey, Boss!” someone shouted from the front of the room.

I poked my head out just a bit, and saw that this restaurant was no more than a line of booths, a row of barstools along a black countertop, and a kitchen beyond it. It was a narrow restaurant, hardly more than a long shoebox.

“Boss!” they shouted again, this time a little more impatient.

I looked down to investigate my long, blonde hair (which, honestly, felt really heavy and weird).

A woman glided up to my table on white roller skates with pink wheels. I cast my eyes up her tall, skinny frame, clad in a short, flowing yellow dress and white apron, and onto the familiar face, framed by her long auburn hair, curled at the ends. There was no mistake, and her name tag confirmed it.

“Byulyi?”

She raised a brow and smacked at a piece of gum loudly before she spoke. “Yeah, Boss, are we ready to close up?”

“Um, sure?”

She chewed some more, the popped a quick bubble. “You wanna wait for your sweetheart first?”

I wasn’t sure I heard right. “My what?”

Byulyi quirked a brow, but didn’t really seem to care. She held one hand at the hip, and ran the other through her hair. “You’re weirder than usual today,” she said, before skating away.

Just then, the door chimed.

“Hey, about time!” I heard Byulyi say.

“Working hard, unnie?”

I snapped up at the sound of the familiar voice--it was the warmest tones that I've heard in a long time. My heart began to thud in my ears.

They shared a laugh. I heard my name somewhere, followed by the wet splat of a mop hitting the floors. hen a pair of footsteps, so familiar in its rhythm, came closer and closer.

I almost couldn't breathe at the sight of Wheein standing over me. Red hair this time, put up carefully to complement her white hair band and her blue dress. She had curly bangs and the same dimpled smile--my god, she looked adorable.

We’re friends, stop it, I told my heart. I tried to look away. We’re friends. Friendship is beautiful. Friendship is sacred. Friendship is--

“Hey, honey,” she said. Then she bent down and, as if it was the most natural greeting in the world, kissed me on the lips.

Friendship is torture, I decided.

I must've just sat there and gaped at her like a stupid fish. She called my name and waved a hand in front of my face. Something caught my eye then, and, without thinking, I grabbed her hand.

I couldn't believe it. All the air must've left my lungs. I must've been dead and dreaming. There was no other explanation for the white-gold ring--a ruby set in between two matching diamonds--on her left hand. No other explanation for the matching ring on my own hand.

The spirit realm was just playing a cruel game, I told myself. This wasn't real. This wasn't Wheein.

Wheein knelt down and met me at eye-level. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“I...what colour is the new painting on the wall?”

“What are you talking about? You've had those pinup girls on the wall forever. There's no space for a new poster, Hyejin. I won't allow it. Not even if the pictures have little dogs in them,” she said with a cute little pout.

I made up some excuse and assured her I was fine. I didn’t really have a good reason for gawking at her the way I did. I wanted to touch her face and shout a million questions into it, just so I can find some semblance of my best friend behind that dimple.

Well, maybe it was the exact opposite. Maybe I didn’t want to see my Wheein in those warm, loving eyes, knowing they wouldn’t be the same when I returned to the spirit world.

Thankfully, the moment was lost when Byulyi (bless this no-shits-given attitude) nearly barrelled over Wheein as she ran laps around the diner with a mop. “Unnie! Be careful!” Wheein cried.

“Nope, I got a date tonight!” Byulyi called over her shoulder.

Wheein shrieked and ran after Byulyi. “With who? With who? Do I know this person?” I heard her say. “Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!”

I peeked over the red vinyl booths to see Wheein jumping around Byulyi like an excited puppy. Byulyi continued mopping like she wasn’t there, humming to herself like she couldn’t hear her, but Wheein didn’t give up.

Suddenly, Byulyi looked to my booth where I’d been spectating, straight into my eyes. I had to admit that I cowered just a little and wondered if this was some sort of divine retribution for how I treated the shy author in the previous world.

“Boss!” Byulyi barked, trying to shrug off Wheein’s little tugs at her apron and her sleeves. I’d laugh if I didn’t feel like Byulyi was trying to murder me with her eyes.

“Y-yes?” I said, standing up.

“Please take your wife home,” Byulyi said through her teeth. She sounded so pissed off I thought she was going to grab Wheein by the collar, but she just pushed her away. Wheein laughed like she knew the greatest secret in the world.

(Meanwhile, I was stunned to silence hearing Wheein being referred to as my wife.)

“C’mon, Byulyi, it’s you-know-who isn’t it? Did you finally make a move? Hyejinie, did she make a move? Did you see?” She turned to me, so excited I could almost see her tail wagging.

I fought the urge to shrug, just in case it was something I was supposed to know. Instead, I tried to put on the most nonchalant, most blase expression I could muster. I crossed my arms and leaned against the side of the booth. “Why don’t you tell her, Byul?” I said, thrusting my hand forward in a vague gesture.

Byulyi threw her hands up and cried, “C’mon Boss, now’s not the time to start caring.” She ran a hand through her bangs when the two of us just smiled at her. “Can you two either help or just get on home, so I can close up in peace? Wannie left like twenty minutes ago, and I wanna leave too.”

“Is that how you talk to the people writing your paycheck?” Wheein asked.

Byulyi let out a loud groan, clasped both palms against the mop handle, and bowed deeply. “Please have mercy and let me pick up my date on time!”

Just like that we were kicked out of our own diner. Fortunately, we didn’t have far to go in order to get home. Right through the kitchen was a narrow staircase, leading up to our second floor home. (As I followed Wheein up the stairs, I stared hard at the ground to avoid looking up Wheein’s skirt--it rode up tight with every step, and I knew I was probably going to faint if I looked. I felt her eyes on me several times, like she was checking if I was looking. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.)

I much preferred the softer pastel colours of our one-bedroom apartment over the blindingly bold reds and whites of the diner below. The apartment was far more spacious than I could’ve guessed from the narrow corridor, but it was probably only three-fourths the size of our room in the spirit realm. The brown-orange couch in the living room was filled with overstuffed pillows, and that was where I threw myself.

Wheein and I hadn’t exchanged a single word. She climbed onto the spot beside me, kneeling into the cushions as she dropped a warm hand onto my exposed knee. “Hyejinim,” she purred into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Why do you look so tired? Let Wheeinie help you.”

Her hand found the hem of my skirt, and sure as hell didn’t seem like they were going to stop there. My breathing hitched. I tried to push her away, but she only pressed closer.

We’re only best friends, I told myself over and over. I couldn’t let myself get used to this. I watched in slow motion as her lips reached for my neck--I craned backwards trying to avoid it, only to have her push me down and hover over me on all fours.

Her half-lidded eyes were achingly familiar, but she wasn’t smiling.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Wheein said, pouting the sexiest pout. “You’re so distant today...You didn’t even grab my ass on the way up, and you always do.” My eyes were ready to pop out of their sockets. Especially when she ran a hand down my chest, biting her bottom lip so seductively.

“I-I...I’m not in the mood,” I said. My voice came out in squeaks, and even I knew I was far from convincing. Her hand continued to send all kinds of tingling feelings wherever they touched, and it took every ounce of strength to finally push her off.

Her little body rolled backwards, and fell against the arm of the couch. We looked at each other with wide eyes. But the moment quickly passed, and her surprise turned into annoyance. “I’m going to get you something to drink,” she said firmly, “then we are going to talk.”

She returned a few minutes later with two steaming mugs. I hadn't moved from my spot, clinging to one arm of the couch for dear life, still trying to process everything that was happening to me. She sidled up against me as she nudged a mug into my hand. I peeled myself off the armrest and straightened myself out as I received it--a flimsy attempt to halfheartedly create any amount of space between us. Barely a heartbeat later, she closed in the space and nestled herself against my shoulder.

“I know what’s wrong,” she said.

I knew she couldn't possibly, but I humoured her anyway. “You do?” I asked.

“Yes, you're worried. We’re all worried,” she sighed. I waited for her to continue. She ran a hand up and down my arm. “But I heard from Wannie, who heard from the grocer, who heard from Mrs. Park that the communists aren't going to be able to push past Seoul. Mrs. Park told me that her son saw them by the border and the poor things looked so hungry and weak--they’ll never be able to make it all the way here. I know you don't really like the Americans, but it feels safer, don't you think?”

I nodded stiffly, not really listening if I'm honest. My mind was solely trained on the languid motions of Wheein’s warm hand as I sipped at the chocolate in my mug.

Wheein went on, lost in her train of thought. “Maybe we should bring umma and appa down here, just in case,” she said.

I blinked. “Mine?”

“Of course, silly!” Wheein said, playfully nudging me with her head. “You know my parents are in America.”

“What?”

“Maybe we should take umma and appa with us and go live with my parents,” Wheein said absentmindedly.

I nodded. (How dare Wheein be such a perfect wife? I thought. Even my own parents would swoon over a daughter-in-law like this!)

“Ah, but Busan should be safe. They'll never make it past Seoul”--she suddenly whipped up to look at me, as if she'd finally figured out the answer to a question I'm still trying to process--“Hyejinie, you should call them tomorrow. Just in case.”

I nodded again. Whatever was happening outside our little world sounded serious. It sounded like there was a war, and we were probably, maybe in danger? But really, I was picturing 3D arrows pushing through a digital map, like a boring video we’d watch in school. Whatever war it was, I didn’t seem as important as all these confusing feelings swirling inside me, I just kept quiet--it was too far removed to think about right now.

The rest of the evening passed by in more or less the same way. Wheein looked concerned, but talked on as if she expected the sound of her voice to put me at ease. And it did, even though she said a lot of things that don't mean much now--mostly local gossip from Busan. (I inferred from her stories that we lived just on the outskirts of the city, halfway to Daegu.)

I learned a bit about this life (probably her attempt at trying to cheer me up--i didn’t know how to explain that I wasn't sad, just confused, so I let it be.) Bits and pieces. Happy anecdotes that people save for hard days like this.

She told these stories in between snippets about the war. Sometimes I didn't quite understand her transition, but she laughed and I laughed along as if the memories were my own, nodding and smiling along as if I wasn't wishing they really were.

Some stories were innocent, filled with easy confessions I never thought I'd ever be brave enough to say.

“Remember the first time you met my parents and how worried you were that they wouldn't remember how to speak Korean? I remember you standing in the bathroom for hours practicing English phrases. But you were so nervous you started stuttering and my mom had to console you. Ah, you were so cute. And you tried so hard. I remember thinking, yep, this woman is the love of my life.”

Some were romantic, and I couldn't help but be jealous. (Married Hyejin was everything I was too young and stupid to even dream up.)

“I'll never forget my 25th birthday, when you made me go on that scavenger hunt. I loved those little presents you left me so much--did I ever tell you that? Thinking about this makes me want to dust off that stuffed lion you made me climb that tree for. I was so mad at you, remember? Ah, but then you had everyone hold up that banner, and I just screamed when you got down on your knee. Hyejinie, you seriously make me so happy. I just wanted you to know that.”

Others, I couldn't even comprehend.

“Remember when we went to the ocean and you were trying to swim to me? You were in that tube and you were paddling like crazy but the waves kept pushing you back. Then those Americans started laughing at us and started yelling at me in broken Korean-- ‘Swim to her! Swim to her!’ And I tried to grab your hand but I was laughing so hard. Then the Americans started yelling ‘Kiss her! Kiss her!’”

At the end of the story, I couldn't help but stare at her lips when she said “Kiss her!” She turned to me too, eyes flicking down and back up.

“Do you remember?” She whispered, her voice suddenly dropping, thickening. “How you boldly kissed me in front of those Americans?”

I shivered.

She leaned in, and I couldn't resist tasting those lips again.

One kiss led to many others. I'd somehow convinced myself that she was mine for the night. (No matter how many times I chanted platonic best friends in my head, it wasn't working.)

We took it to the bedroom in the end. I followed my instincts when I looked into her eyes, fast, desperate, like I'd been parched my whole life to drink in her existence.

“Slow down,” she moaned into my skin. “We have the rest of our lives.”

God, it took everything not to dissolve into tears right then. So many emotions grabbed me, but I willed myself to focus on the sensations. Her fingers, her lips, the scrape of her teeth. Don't look at her heart, don't listen to her--it's not meant for you.

Once I made sure she was asleep, I snuck off to the bathroom, ran the shower, and cried.

The next morning, I woke up to the scent of Wheein’s hair, and the warmth of her body draped across mine. Two weeks ago, this would've been perfectly normal, right down to the way Wheein liked to hook her leg under mine. Two weeks ago--it was a different time.

We got dressed, then I cooked breakfast in our little kitchen. Two eggs and some toast for each of us. (Every package was written in English. Unlike the last two adventures, I couldn't read them, not without a lot of energy. Every letter took effort, and blending the sounds took time. Like every bit of English I'd learned in my own life had just evaporated. It took maybe two whole minutes for me to read “farm-fresh eggs” and “California” on the cardboard carton. Even then, I wasn’t sure if I was pronouncing it correctly in my head.)

Wheein handed me the newspaper as I sat down. I skimmed the headlines (mostly about the ongoing war and the evils of communism), and pretended to read the stories when, really, I was just trying to stare at Wheein without getting caught. Her focus on her breakfast shifted to me for a moment, and she grinned, her mouth full of bread.

“Where do you think Byul went last night, honey? You don’t think she’s dating any regulars at the diner do you?”

I folded down one corner of the newspaper, trying to recall the names Wheein had mentioned the night before. “Wannie?” I tried.

“No, no, Wannie wouldn’t cheat on Joohyun-unnie,” Wheein said, her brows knitting together as she cut into her eggs. I flipped the newspaper back up, hoping she wouldn’t catch my confusion. “Oh gosh, you don’t think it’s one of the Sunday morning ajummas’ kids, do you? You know how much those ajummas love Byulyi-unnie. Can’t imagine why.”

I cracked a smile. “Guess she has a way with older women.”

Wheein stared at me, her jaw unhinging just a bit before she exploded into her familiar, barking laughter. “Oh gosh,” Wheein wheezed, “I am definitely telling her you said that.”

“I won’t be punished for telling the truth,” I said, raising one hand to my heart in mock sincerity.

Wheein laughed again (and oh god how I missed that laugh--I wanted to listen to it forever). “Honey, please,” she said in between residual chuckles. She pawed at my arm until I put down the newspaper. “Who do you think it is?”

“Why don’t we head down soon and ask her when she gets here?” I said.

That seemed to excite her more than I could’ve expected. She quickly forked the remainder of her breakfast into her mouth, then whined and nuzzled her head into my shoulder until I finished my breakfast.

It was 6am when we stepped into the kitchen. Wannie, our line cook, was already at the back bringing in groceries. She greeted us with an enthusiastic, “Good morning!” and exchanged a couple of laughs with Wheein before going about her duties. She was the kind of girl who sang along to a song in her head all the time, not caring if people listened or not. She had a great voice, and her enthusiasm was contagious, really, but I was thankful I didn’t work in the kitchen. Being that happy for extended periods of time would just tire me out.

Byulyi came in at 6:30, and it didn't take long for Byulyi and Wheein to continue last night’s game of cat and mouse.

 

“Soooooo?” Wheein said with a devilish grin as she leaned over the counter, elbows on the surface supporting her head. I wandered up and down the diner, trying to figure out how to work most of the all the old-school technology. Wheein and Byulyi both gave me concerned looks once in awhile, but didn’t comment.

“Byulyi-unniiiiie,” Wheein whined.

“What?” Byulyi snapped, as she checked the condiments.

I offered a sympathetic smile as I watched her violently stuff napkins into the square containers. “I take it it didn’t go well?”

“Don’t really wanna talk about it,” she mumbled.

Suddenly, Wheein slapped the table. “I got it! It was Mrs. Ahn’s daughter, wasn’t it? What was her name again? That school teacher from Seoul? Hee-something.”

Byulyi clutched one of the napkin dispensers with both hands--she looked ready to pitch it like a baseball right at Wheein’s head. Wheein immediately threw her hands up to protect her face from a blow that never came. Byulyi only blushed and went back to work.

“Don’t worry,” Wheein said. I held her arm this time, and narrowed my eyes in warning. Wheein only smiled wider before reaching down and giving my ass a squeeze.

I dropped my heart. Gunfire and artillery didn’t kill me, heartbreak (sort of) didn’t kill me, but Wheein’s coy grin and bold, effortless flirting was enough for me to swoon every ounce of air out of my lungs and release every ounce of liquid between my legs.

I gripped the counter hard, hoping she wouldn’t notice me slowly dying in the corner as she ran her hand up and down my backside. Byulyi made a face at us as she finished checking the napkin dispensers, like it was the most normal interaction she’d ever witnessed. Kind of like seeing your parents hold hands or kiss in public.

She skated over and seated herself in front of Wheein, who released my soul long enough to fetch a glass of orange juice for Byulyi. I took this opportunity to flee and look busy in a nearby booth (I arranged the packets of sugar about 20 times while I eavesdropped).

“Don’t worry,” Wheein repeated, waggling her eyebrows. “You-know-who is probably coming in today.”

Byulyi immediately flushed a deep crimson. (This looks familiar, I thought. Except she looked young and feminine in her puffy uniform and apron, which was a pretty refreshing change from all the other Byulyis, who were quietly masculine--all lines and no curves.)

“Shut up,” Byulyi mumbled into her hands. One long, dramatic groan later, she pointed a finger at Wheein. “What's your secret?”

Wheein nodded in my direction, laughing. “What do you mean? With Hyejinie? Or to my beauty?” She added, batting her eyelashes.

Byulyi rolled her eyes so hard, I almost stood up and applauded. “Don’t be gross,” she huffed.

Wheein burst out laughing, slapping the table after every beat. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and waved her hands to cool herself off. “Easy. Hyejin is the love of my life. A thousand girls can't make up half the woman she is. I would’ve done anything to make her mine.”

“I don't need a thousand. Just one, Wheein. One!” She cried, body folding over, head on the counter.

My heart was beating so quickly, and my head was buzzing with so many thoughts at the effortless confession that I thought--for sure this time--I’d died and gone to heaven. Needless to say, I didn't catch the rest of the conversation.

When the first customers streamed in at 7, I was ready and waiting at the bar where I supposedly always made the coffee. I didn’t know shit about coffee, especially with all this dated technology. Fortunately, I had two-months worth of experience working in a coffee shop near the apartment (where I was promptly fired for “unprofessional conduct” after inviting Wheein over after closing time).

It was mostly a couple of old people and one or two sharply dressed professionals who came in the morning. Being out in the middle of nowhere meant that we weren’t very busy for the most part. The diner was located just en route to Busan, on the highway between Busan and Daegu, and it was almost all local business and travellers--rich looking men and women and ragged looking soldiers.

Several hours after the noontime rush, the diner emptied out. I wiped down the bar, listening to Wheein and Wannie humming harmonies as they organized the kitchen. Byulyi was seated in a booth, reading yesterday's paper. All was silent except for the quiet music from the jukebox, the hum of the ceiling fan, the crinkle of paper, and the beautiful melodies from the kitchen.

It was nice. My mind calmed down enough for me to organize my thoughts and emotions. I found comfort in hearing Wheein’s voice--it made me realize that it really didn't have to be that complicated. I thought long and hard about everything that happened up until this point, and how I was going to make it up to my Wheein when I got back.

But when I looked up and saw Wheein looking at me with such a sweet smile, I don't know if I wanted to go back.

I didn't think that far when the loud rumble of an engine spluttered into our parking lot, cutting through the silence like a missile. Wheein exclaimed and hurried to the front of the house as she dabbed her hands on her apron. (Did I mention Wheein had this yellow and white polka-dot apron she loves? She called it “the business apron”. I don’t know how anyone could be this adorable.)

Byulyi folded her newspaper forward and sent a sharp glare at Wheein, who winked at her in response.

The door chimed open, and in stepped none other than Kim Yongsun. She strutted in with a tired smile for each of us before seating herself in front of the bar. She was dressed all in khaki, with a hat under her arm, and a large bag slung by her hip.

“L-let me help you,” Byulyi said, jumping out of her seat to take her bag.

Yongsun shook her head and placed her bag on the empty stool beside her. “I got it,” she said with a grin. Seeing Byulyi’s crestfallen expression, she quickly added, “But thank you anyway, Byul. Always the gentleman.”

Byulyi seemed more than pleased by the compliment, but didn’t look like she knew how to show it, as she awkwardly bowed and slunk back to her seat.

As I took Yongsun’s order, I watched in my peripheral as Wheein gestured to Byulyi. “Have a cup of coffee,” Wheein whispered loudly across the diner to Byulyi’s booth.

I nudged her in the elbow and, shaking my head, I said, “Why don't we all have a little coffee break while we wait for Wannie to cook?”

Byulyi and Wheein scrambled up to the bar stools on either side of Yongsun, so quick that I'd barely turned around.

“Yongsun-unnie,” Wheein said cutely, “how have you been? Are you seeing anybody?”

Yongsun looked surprised by the question, but laughed in good humour nonetheless, like she expected nothing less of Wheein’s charming boldness. Byulyi’s eyes glanced over at Yongsun several times, though she faced straight ahead, feigning disinterest.

(I later found out, through bits of scattered information, that Yongsun was 32 years old, divorced, and a messenger for the ROK. She came to Busan whenever she could to visit her two-year-old daughter, who lived with her older sister just a few miles from the diner.)

“No, no. Just because I travel a lot doesn't mean I can meet good people. Though last week, I did meet--”

Byulyi cleared her throat. “A-any news on the war?” She interrupted. I shot her a warning look, but no one else seemed to mind.

Wheein, actually, got very excited and started quoting things from so-and-so, who heard from some ajumma named Park, Kim, or Lee. Yongsun smiled and nodded along patiently. Wannie came out with a plate of pancakes, perfectly browned, and a bowl of cream on the side. I handed her a mug of coffee and beckoned her toward the seat beside Wheein.

I mixed myself a cup of hot chocolate and stood on the other side of the counter, two hands cradling my mug as I listened.

“I heard the Americans are going to bring guns with laser beams! Maybe one day we will have flying tanks and giant robots,” Wheein was saying.

“Mrs. Park told me the Japanese are building giant robots to smash communism as we speak,” Wannie said, throwing her head back in hearty laughter. “Can you imagine that kind of technology? What’s next? Flying cars?”

“Maybe they’ll invent something that lets me deliver letters instantly so I can take a nap from time to time. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Yongsun said with an easy smile. She knocked at the curve of her own shoulder with a fist, then rolled her shoulders back and stretched out her neck.

(I bit my tongue. So hard.)

“Mrs. Park is crazy if she thinks the Japanese would help us at all,” Wannie added.

“She believes anything her son tells her. Him being a doctor and all,” Byulyi quips.

Wheein rolls her eyes. “He’s hardly a real doctor. He’s just one of those kids the army picked up.”

“Hey, hey,” Yongsun says, raising her fork to defend her honour, “us army kids deserve some respect too!”

“I respect the work you do, Yongsunssi,” Byulyi says, puffing out her chest. We all snorted, nearly spewing our coffee. Flirting isn’t like sucking up to a teacher, I wanted to tell her, but one look at the girl covering her embarrassed face with her hands, and I just felt bad. Where the hell was all that spunk from last night?

“Thank you, Byulyi,” Yongsun giggled.

“So, where are you going today?” Wheein asked.

Yongsun pushed her now-empty plate aside. “Busan. But I am staying the night with my sister, so I can spend some time with Sooin while I’m here. I won’t be going back to Seoul until the day after tomorrow.”

Wannie leaned closer toward Yongsun, pushing Wheein backward just a bit so she could look Yongsun right in the eye and say, “How bad is it really out there? My Hyunnie is worried about her parents in Daegu. I tell her she’s being silly since Daegu is close by, but you know her. Everyone’s saying they weren’t going to push past Seoul anyway.”

Yongsun’s light-heartedness disappeared almost immediately. Her lips were set in a tight-line, and her eyes looked like they’ve seen some shit. “They might,” she whispered to the empty space in front of her. We all watched her, expectantly waiting for more.

She rubbed her weary eyes, then folded them neatly in her lap as she continued. “Last night, I was fortunately nowhere close to Seoul, but I found out through some friends that the communists are pushing very hard,” she sighed, “I don’t think you should worry too much right now, but prepare for the worst.”

Byulyi tugged the sleeve of Yongsun’s khaki shirt, eyes wide with concern. “Will you be running messages in the battlefield?”

Yongsun smiled, slow and sad. “Of course,” she said. “Harley and I will be fine.”

Harley was an American motorcycle, one of those models they brought back for the war. It didn’t fully click until Yongsun mentioned this motorcycle that I realized I had been thrown right at the beginning of the Korean War. (I had never been a motorcycle enthusiast, but I remembered this picture in a textbook somewhere, a Harley-Davidson W-something, and thinking, shit this doesn’t look anything like the giant hogs you see in American movies.)

The calendar on the wall told me it was June, which didn’t mean a thing to me. I couldn’t remember a thing about history in school aside from that stupid photo of a motorcycle. It seemed that it wouldn’t have helped much anyway, since so many things seemed to have developed differently than my own world.

My marriage, for example--how could it be? A woman roving the country to deliver messages in pants and a motorcycle seemed to be just as normal. There were so many little things about this world that seemed the same, yet not the same, as if some pivotal moment in history changed everything we believed in.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back next,” Yongsun said with a soft sigh. She sucked the inside of her cheek, and fiddled with a stray napkin in her hands. “But hopefully, there will be good news soon. In the meantime, it’s probably best not to listen to the gossip.”

When she excused herself to the bathroom, Wheein was all over Byulyi, whose starry-eyed gaze was fixed on the image of Yongsun’s disappearing back. “You have to ask her out before she leaves!” Wheein whispered harshly, shaking the older girl by the shoulder.

“I-I can’t do that! I”m not ready!”

Wheein rolled her eyes, and punched her in the shoulder with a click of her tongue. “You’ve been watching her for two years! You’re never going to be ready!”

“But, but, she’s so cool and pretty and put-together and I’m...I’m just a waitress. Nope,” she gave her head a determined shake, “Nope. Can’t do it. I just can’t. Boss, help me out here, won’t you?”

I turned away, pretending to sip whatever was left in my empty cup.

“C’mon, Boss! I thought you were on my side!”

I sighed and put my cup down. “Listen. No one can decide for you. Just remember that you’re making a choice, even when you say nothing, and you’re going to have to live with that.”

A little while later, Yongsun said goodbye, and nothing more was said and done. Byulyi stood by the open door, awkwardly waving until the sound of Harley faded away. “Go to her,” I said, but she just continued to stare out into the empty dirt road ahead.

The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. It was Tuesday, after all, and I could only wonder how we could afford to keep the place open. Out of sheer boredom (while Wheein was out running errands), I revisited the pile of papers from last night. They were covered in numbers and words that didn’t mean much to me, but it was not hard to understand the angry red numbers. No wonder every pencil in the store was covered in bite marks (which was kind of a disgusting habit I’m glad I never picked up).

Evening came and went. Eventually, the music faded, the lights flicked off, and the fans died down. I gave Byulyi a pat on the back, and wished her a good night.

Wheein was quiet until our heads hit the pillow.

“I wish Byul-unnie would just go for it,” she sighed into the darkness. I reached for her hand beneath the covers, and curled my fingers between hers. Cool metal brushed against my right hand--my stomach flipped as I pictured the touching bands.

“Why is she so scared?” I asked, more to myself than anyone else.

Wheein hummed, snuggled closer against me. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe she’s worried that Yongsun will never come back. She used to come in every week, remember?”

“But the war?” I tried.

“Yeah, never know when we’ll see her next. I wish she didn’t join the army. She’s too oblivious to notice Byul-unnie, and she probably thinks she doesn’t have another chance with anybody since she’s divorced and all, but who cares these days? We’re modern women! Why not just stay here and have a normal job and be with Sooin? A girl needs her mother when she’s that small, you know. Ah, maybe Byulyi-unnie doesn’t want to have a child? But she loves Sooin, so that doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe it’s all your gossip,” I teased. “Maybe they’re actually together, but she doesn’t want to tell you because you’ll--”

Fingers suddenly jabbed me in the side, and I yelped, but she was relentless. I laughed and squirmed until I got all tangled up in our blankets. I begged for mercy through my tears, but she just straddled my waist and tickled me harder.

When she stopped, we were both panting for breath. She leaned over, held my face in her hands, and kissed me. “I’d hate if I had to see you leave and never know when you’d come back,” she whispered against my lips. “I couldn’t bear it. I love you so much, Hyejin.”

I moaned against her fervent tongue, and succumbed. Between breaths, between the gaps of my clouded reasoning, I told her I loved her too.

I worshipped her body that night, inch by inch, and we made love. Deep down, I wondered if I'd given myself away.

I was playing a dangerous game here, but I couldn’t resist.

Of course I couldn’t resist. While in this world, I allowed myself to be loved like I wanted to be loved. Wheein loved me, and I loved her--it was the cruelest taste of heaven the universe could ever have given me, and I couldn’t make any more excuses. I was hooked on this feeling since the moment I saw the rings, and I knew how bad the withdrawal was going to be when I returned, but I wanted this high so, so, so badly.

I guess I got what was coming to me.

That night, I dreamt. It was the first time I could remembered a dream since entering the spirit realm, and it was clearer than any other dream I’d ever had before. (It was like my soul had simply said, “Fuck this!” and went off.)

I remember every detail so vividly, like I’d lived through it.

I saw Wheein, my Wheein with the chocolate brown hair, curled up in a pile of clothing, just as I’d seen her last. I was bodyless, floating, watching from a bird’s eye view. She didn’t stir, didn’t move, nothing to indicate she was alive except for the trail of tears running from the corner of her eye.

Then I saw Byulyi and Yongsun from the wasteland behind the red door, caked in mud, supporting each other as they limped through a desert. They collapsed through the open flap of a dusty yurt, and when they stood up, they were clean, fresh college students. The brown thrown-together sheet metal walls of the yurt morphed into grey buildings. Snow fell all around them in a circle. Wheein played the piano, a thin trail of tears still running down her face, as Byulyi and Yongsun danced.

I was nowhere to be seen, until everything suddenly fell away. Wheein, Byulyi, and Yongsun--gone. Everything was just...white.

I was 13-years-old again in that white space, standing alone, staring ahead at nothing. I opened my mouth to sing, but nothing came out. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make a single sound. The white background faded, and suddenly I’m on a stage. The spotlight shined harsh in my eyes, blinding me, and all I could hear is laughter and the jeers.

Look at that fat wannabe idol.

Look at that loser.

Look at that nobody.

I started to cry, but I couldn’t make a sound. I continue to cry as the world whirled around me. The stage, the classroom, with my parents, with my friends, at a restaurant, at a bar, at a club--the scenes spun around me endlessly. I stood in the middle of each one. Alone.

When I awoke, I found myself staring into two watery pools. Wheein shook me by the shoulders gently, mumbling my name. “It’s okay, honey,” she whispered, rubbing her wet cheeks onto my own wet cheeks, “it’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. You’re okay now. I got you.”

I leaned into her touch, and held her close. My angel was so warm, so beautiful--I thought I was dreaming. I wished I was, so I didn’t have to pretend it was real.

She cradled my head and sang me back to sleep. It was dreamless and deep, yet I still managed to crack open my eyes before the sun, or any creature with half a diurnal brain, woke up. As I laid in bed in the utter darkness, counting the beats between Wheein’s breathing against my chest, I began to seriously consider my options.

Kim Yongsun was a wartime messenger, running important messages from city to city, battlefield to battlefield. I pictured her waking up in a few hours and getting ready to go to Busan. Maybe she would return in the afternoon and stop by the diner, but Wheein was right--there were no guarantees. Byulyi’s window was getting smaller as the war got bigger.

But what if...Yongsun doesn’t make it? What if she never finds out? I would be trapped here in Wheein’s arms, living a life where I’m important, where I have a purpose.

I couldn’t.

No, I quickly dismissed the thought. Whether my own Wheein needed me or not, I was not going to end our relationship like this. I couldn’t steal these precious memories from myself; I couldn’t live this lie. I needed to get out. The sooner, the better.

By morning, I resolved to continue this charade until I could complete my mission. I was going to help Byulyi even if it was out of character.

(And from the way everybody looked at me all careful, like they expected me to explode or pass out, I was clearly playing the role all wrong. From what I could infer, I must’ve been louder, more commanding, and just a bit kinkier than the average 28 year old woman in the 1950s--I can't even begin to describe the kind of “playthings” I found in my bedside drawer.)

The morning passed more or less the same way. A group of American soldiers came by, taking up two booths. They laughed and talked loudly in English, as all of us looked at each other. Byulyi cowered in the kitchen. “I can’t speak English!” she cried, earning a smack from Wannie for disturbing her peace. I tried to step up, but (once again) found every bit of English I knew, even from my previous life, all gone.

The soldiers looked at me expectantly with wide smiles. One of them greeted me in broken Korean. “H-hello,” I said. But that was it. I must’ve looked so stupid gaping in front of these Americans. I clutched my notepad tightly as I sweated up a storm.

Then a soft giggle came from beside me. “Let me help you, honey.” I gave Wheein a relieved, grateful smile. She grinned back and gave my arm a gentle squeeze to tell me it was okay. It was okay to ask for help, her eyes told me.

Wheein, of course, was perfectly fluent to my untrained ears. The Americans got their bacon, and everybody was happy.

In the early afternoon, the diner was empty. All of us decided to take a break for lunch in one of the booths, so Wannie cooked up a tower of waffles and a plate of fried chicken. “This is what the Americans do,” she said proudly. I wasn’t sure, but I honestly didn’t give a shit as soon as I saw that fried chicken, tossed in sesame seeds.

But just before we could dig in, the door chimed open, and in walked two excited female voices.

“Ah, where is everyone?” one of them said. I peeked over and saw a beautiful woman in wire-frame glasses, looking pale and delicate next to Yongsun and her uniform. I stood up, but before I could even say hello, Wannie was scrambling over Byulyi, desperately trying to get out. Byulyi rubbed her shoulders and rolled her eyes, like this happened all the time but didn’t stop her from quietly sulking about it.

“Hyunnie!” she cried. The woman in the glasses turned and stepped forward just in time to catch Wannie before she fell face-first out of the booth.

“Seungwan-ah, what are you doing?” The woman in glasses said, giggling as she pushed Wannie to a standing position.

Wannie (I hadn't realized Wannie was not her full name until this moment, so that was embarrassing) held onto the woman, hugging her tightly. “You came to see me!” she said.

“I came to get lunch with Yongsun.”

Seungwan pouted, and pressed both palms on either side of the woman’s cheeks. “Bae Joohyun,” she said in a warning tone.

Joohyun sighed, though she couldn’t contain her smile, and gently peeled Wannie’s hands away before leaning in for a kiss. “I missed you too.”

In front of me, I heard Byulyi grumble: “Why am I surrounded by disgusting couples?”

The six of us decided to move to a bigger table, one of those circular booths. Wheein and I sat on one side of the other edge, while Wannie and Joohyun sat on the other side, just in case customers came in. This left Byulyi and Yongsun squished together in the middle.

While Yongsun was chatting with Joohyun, a librarian in Busan, about the devastation of books in the raided cities, I leaned over Wheein and tugged at Byulyi’s arm. (Wheein rubbed my shoulder affectionately as I did this, and I almost forgot what I wanted to say.) Byulyi leaned in.

“What is it, Boss?” she whispered.

I cupped my hand over her ear, and whispered, “You need to go for it.”

“W-what? No! I mean, I don't know what you're talking about.”

Wheein shot her a look. “You know what she means,” she whispered.

Byulyi swallowed. “Now?”

We nodded, in sync.

Byulyi waited for a lull in the conversation between Yongsun and Joohyun. She didn’t have to wait long for Wannie to demand her partner’s attention with a forkful of waffle. They giggled and stared into each other’s eyes until it was clear that they were too lost in each other to continue the conversation with Yongsun.

One more slap to Byulyi’s leg seemed to do the trick.

“So, um, unnie,” she started, watching Joohyun and Wannie’s shameless flirting just to avoid looking into Yongsun’s eyes. “How...how’s Sooin?”

Yongsun beamed at the mention of her daughter. “She’s great! She insisted on sleeping with me last night instead of her own baby bed. Isn’t that just darling?” Byulyi reflected back her smile, but a moment later, Yongsun’s face fell. She sighed and, looking down at her own hands, she said, “Every time I see her I worry that she will forget about me.”

With a sudden burst of courage, Byulyi took hold of Yongsun’s hand. I couldn’t see her expression behind her curtain of hair, but Yongsun’s eyes were wide and her cheeks were tinged with the slightest pink. “You’re a wonderful mother,” Byulyi said, “Don’t ever doubt that.”

“Um, thanks?”

Silence. Painful, awkward silence.

(Wheein was getting bored. She cut into a piece of chicken with her right hand, and driving me all shades of crazy with her left. Byulyi still hadn’t let go of Yongsun’s hand, and Yongsun looked like she was fighting World War Three in her head. So, yes, the tension was thick.)

“S-so, um, are you going back to Seoul tonight?” Byulyi asked.

Yongsun seemed to relax her shoulders just a little. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with her free hand, and said, “Yes. If the rumours are true, then I will be away for a few more days.”

“Rumours?” Wheein said, twisting around and withdrawing her hand from my thigh in excitement. (I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.)

“Yes, but, um, let’s just say it’s confidential.”  
No matter how hard Wheein tried, Yongsun kept a tight lip.

Byulyi didn’t take any more chances during that meal. She stayed quiet, occasionally asking pointless questions. It was a pleasant meal nonetheless--nothing but small talk and flirting all around. It wasn’t until the very end, when Joohyun was kissing Wannie goodbye and Yongsun stood awkwardly beside them, that Byulyi took one last plunge. (With a little help from me and Wheein in the form of mild threats in both ears.)

“May I have a word with you outside?” she asked. Yongsun gave us an uneasy glance. Something about our conspiratorial grins must’ve made her uncomfortable, but we just shrugged and waved her out the door.

A few minutes later, Byulyi came back inside and said goodbye to Joohyun. As soon as the  
The Harley rumbled away, and the door closed, Byulyi shoved Wheein and I aside as she skated past us and made a half-assed attempt at a triple axel spin on the linoleum floor, screaming and whooping at the top of her lungs.

Wheein, Wannie, and I stood by the door as we watched her celebratory laps around the diner.

“I take it somebody got a date?” Wannie said. The words barely left Wannie’s mouth when a very happy Byulyi crashed straight into her, scooping her up by the waist and lifting her up like a trophy, ignoring her thrashing and screaming.

“I’ve got a date tonight!” Byulyi proclaimed.

“Put me down!”

Byulyi froze, with Wannie flailing in mid-air. “Oh god. What do I wear?”

I rushed forward to catch Wannie just as Byulyi dropped her. I looped my arms under hers, and bent backwards to support her. From my peripheral, I saw Wheein march up to Byulyi and scold her for stupidity.

“But, Wheeinie,” Byulyi said with a dreamy smile, “I’m having dinner with the beautiful Kim Yongsun tonight. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?”

Wheein rolled her eyes. “Since you first set eyes on her, blah blah blah. That doesn’t mean you can throw Wannie around like that!” A couple of back and forths later, Wheein announced that she was going to take Byulyi shopping. Like it or not.

Fortunately, despite our entire staff being cut in half, the dinner rush consisted of only several elderly couples and a group of soldiers with their translator. Easy evening. (It wasn’t my first time waitressing. Besides, I was convinced that anything Byulyi could do, I could do better.)

That night, Wheein gave me all the details, in between pretending to read pulp paperbacks and teasing each other, while we cuddled up in bed.

Byulyi insisted she had the perfect outfit and didn’t need to go all the way to Busan to go shopping, but when Wheein peeked into her closet and pulled out the moth-eaten dresses from their hangers, she wasn’t convinced. They had spent so much time arguing about Byulyi’s tacky dresses that it got too dark to cycle down to Busan, so they had to make do. Fortunately, one of Byulyi’s sisters suggested borrowing her boyfriend’s suit.

“It was a strange idea, but anything was better than those dresses--believe me, if only you could’ve see them! So we went over and, gosh, if it wasn’t the reddest thing I’ve ever seen! Kids these days! Oh my gosh, it fit her perfectly! Hyejinie, I wish you could’ve seen it. Much better than those old dresses. I told her, ‘Oppa, you should just wear it,’ and she got upset, but I know she considered it.”

She didn’t wear it in the end. Too scared, she said. (If only she knew how much men’s clothing she wore in her other lives.) Instead she picked a modest, safe dress from her sister’s wardrobe.

“I tried to tell her she would look better in a shirt and pants, but she refused,” Wheein huffed.

I laughed and ruffled Wheein’s bangs. “Byulyi sure is girly, isn’t she?”

“You don’t know the half of it! I think you’d look nice in a suit, Hyejinie. What do you think?”

“Hm, I don’t know. You don’t think that would be too scandalous?” I said teasingly.

Wheein smiled a wicked smile. “The only thing that’s scandalous is how handsome you would look. I might not be able to keep my hands off you.”

Her hand reached up and turned my face for a heated kiss. “I thought we were talking about Byul-unnie,” I mumbled.

“Later. I’m sure she’s having the time of her life with Yongsun-unnie.”

Just like that, we were making love again. The guilt and the dilemma remained, though faded. And that scared the shit out of me. If I continued like this, I knew that I would be rubbing the guilt away every day, no matter how much I wanted to preserve it.

This is temporary, I told myself. The words scrolled through my mind like a banner, infinitely looping until I fell asleep.

When I awoke, it was my fourth day (third morning) in this world. The calendar read June 20th, 1950.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t worry about Wheein. I knew time had stopped for us in our real world, but I had no clue how time moved in the spirit world--it always looked the same. I imagined her curled up, waiting for me in the same position I’d seen her last, the way I saw her in my dream. I pictured her walking around, killing time. I don’t know. I didn’t think she would be pacing or sleeping for four days straight, but I couldn’t see her any other way. Maybe I just wanted to think that she was missing me as I was missing her.

I wanted to get back soon.

Byulyi stormed in with much of the same scowl on her face as I’d seen her last (the morning after her date with the Ahn kid I never ended up meeting). We crowded around her, comforting words and coffee at the ready, and waited.

She began with a sob. My heart sank.

“She...she doesn’t think I could love her,” Byulyi wailed. We all watched as she stretched herself out over the counter, defeated.

“Well, with her job and her daughter, it is kind of hard,” I said, nodding sympathetically.

Wheein clicked her tongue. “I’m going to be honest, unnie, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Byulyi glared, and slammed her hand down like she was about to climb over the counter and strangle her. I immediately pushed Wheein behind me and shot her a warning look. Instead of getting angry, Byulyi just buried her face in her hands.

“How could you say that?” she groaned into her palms. “You know how crazy I’ve been about her for two years.”

“I know, but you don’t really take anything seriously. It’s hard to tell. I know you’re an easy-going person and all, but sometimes,” Wheein shrugged, “you just look like you don’t care. Nobody knows what you’re really thinking except you, unnie, so you gotta show it. Besides, you say you’ve been crazy about Yongsun-unnie, but you flirt with literally every other girl who comes into the diner. The only reason you don’t flirt with Yongsun-unnie is because you’re a mumbling idiot next to her, and--”

“Okay, okay! I get it! I blew it from the beginning,” Byulyi cried, peeling herself off the laminate and leaning back with a deep sigh.

I smiled as much as I could, and handed her a cookie from the display. “Just show her you’re serious.”

But she didn’t meet my eyes as she sheepishly bowed and received the cookie. “I’ll try, Boss.” She took a bite, chewed slowly, thoughtfully, and looked off into the distance. That was the end of that.

I guess you could say the next few days passed by in utter, ignorant bliss. There was nothing I could do to help Byulyi, not with Yongsun puttering around the country with coded messages and a (probably) broken heart. Byulyi bounced back, much the same. She went right back to sassing me, provoking Wheein, and flirting with attractive customers--all the things she usually did to hid the heartbreak--but she zoned out all the time and ate nothing but cookies and drank nothing but coffee. It wasn’t hard to guess that Yongsun was still on her mind.

We didn’t know when she would be back, and, despite Byulyi being a hot mess, I didn’t think anyone wished harder than me that Yongsun wasn’t dead in a ditch or blown up to pieces somewhere.

No, life went by and everyone pretended it was okay. We got better at it as time went by.

Nothing was okay, of course. We all knew that, but there was nothing for people to talk about except for the same inane rumours about mega robots and alien technology. As the gossip got more and more ridiculous, I got more and more worried. Even Wheein bit her tongue every time some ahjumma or ajussi came up with a new conspiracy theory about the war.

Nobody had a clue. Newspaper headlines lied every single goddamn day, to the point where we stopped reading them and started using the paper for kindle instead. Nobody knew what the hell was happening. A bomb could’ve dropped on us, and we would’ve been none the wiser.

But we pretended nonetheless.

(Wheein and I kept up our charade of marital bliss. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy. So, so, so heart-burstingly happy, but we both knew something was wrong. She tested me often. First with stories, asking me if I remembered this or that. I’d always give a vague gesture and change the topic. Then came the strings of “but you used to” phrases. I tried my best--I really did. I think I kept it up very well...until we made love. In those quiet, passionate moments, I wasn’t sure who or what I was supposed to be anymore.

I often waited for her to sleep and escaped into the bathroom, where I spent what felt like hours staring into the mirror each time, trying to process the face of my older self. Wheein looked almost exactly the same, but me...I couldn’t put a finger on it. I looked sharper, like I knew better. There was something about the lines on my face that seemed to hold secrets beyond what I could even dream up. Maybe it was the long blonde hair. Maybe it was the times. Either way, I never felt right in those moments--I was just a thief. No matter how I contorted my face, it still didn’t look like my own. Just something I stole.)

On June 30th, eleven days after we saw her last, Yongsun returned.

The sound of her Harley barely quieted when she burst through my doors with a bang. We all stopped, frozen in whatever task we were doing. Wannie stepped out of the kitchen. Wheein pulled away from nuzzling into my back. I held a pile of notes in mid-air. Byulyi stopped mid-sentence with a baffled set of customers. And we all held our breaths, all eyes on the frazzled soldier with the dusty cheeks and the young toddler clasped against her chest.

(It was my first time seeing Yongsun’s daughter, though I had heard way more than I needed to about the baby angel. She had a mass of dark curls, and a caricature of her mother’s cheeks. Her yellow swing coat and polished black shoes made her look like the littlest, most precious treasure next to Yongsun’s wrinkled red dress.)

It was so quiet that nobody had to strain their ears when Yongsun whispered, “You have to help me. P-please.”

Nobody moved.

I still remember her voice, so quiet and broken, and her wild, bloodshot eyes. Wheein was the first to react. “Nothing to see here,” she announced with large sweeping gestures, as if she was trying to direct everyone’s attention elsewhere. She quickly wrapped an arm around Yongsun’s shoulder and marched her across the diner and up the stairs into our apartment.

We flipped the sign on the door then, and turned off all the lights, closing the diner as soon as the last customer inside had left. We had filled in the time in between with excuses and uncomfortable attempts at humour, but we already knew then that there would be rumours churning before the end of the night. Whatever had happened to Yongsun was serious, and the last thing I wanted was for some nobody to reduce her trauma to something disgustingly scandalous and petty.

Soon, Byulyi, Wannie, and I found ourselves standing in the cramped space of our living room. Yongsun held Sooin on her lap wrapping her arms around her daughter protectively. Wheein poured us all tea.

We waited in silence for Yongsun to get comfortable.

We happily complied when she murmured, “Please, um, could...could you...sit down please? I’m sorry, but you three standing there is making me really anxious.” As she said this, she gripped Sooin just a little tighter. Her uneasy smile would’ve distracted me from the subtle motion, but I watched her closely. From my perpheral, Byulyi made a move reach out and touch her, hold her, but decided against it when Yongsun turned her half-smile in her direction. At least she was as hyper-aware of Yongsun’s distress as I was.

Sooin looked around, eyes round as she studied the adults in the room with open curiosity.

We sat on the floor in front of our coffee table, giving Wheein the seat beside Yongsun. No one said anything in our discomfort, but we glanced at each other furtively, hoping one of us would break the silence.

Finally, Byulyi asked, “Are you okay?”  
Yongsun shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was so quiet and her message so incomprehensible that she had to say it twice.

“They took Seoul.”

My mind was already conjuring up nightmare scenarios of living under that oppressive regime. Wheein wrapped an arm around Yongsun’s shoulder. Byulyi reached up and placed a hand on Yongsun’s knee. Wannie and I exchanged a knowing look. It was the kind of truth that everybody thought, the kind that people would never say out loud, but nobody dared to confront.

(The room was so heavy and grim that I wanted to stand up and tell them, “I’m a time traveller! Everything will be okay!” but I had no way of knowing. These dimensions had never been consistent, and I was so limited in my knowlege of each world that I’d probably just be an idiot and a liar if I pulled something like that.)

Yongsun continued her story. I could almost see Yongsun’s head spinning, swirling colours of events that pushed through her mouth like a runaway train. “They took Seoul,” she said again. “There were so many of them, and so little we could do. The foreigners...they couldn’t protect us. They didn’t know anything, but the enemy...Hyejin, Wheein, I...I can’t go back there. I just can’t. Please, you have to hide me. Nobody can know where I am.”

She burst into tears when she couldn’t go on, and as if feeling every note of her mother’s pain, Sooin started bawling too. Byulyi stood and squeezed in close beside Yongsun, gently pulling Sooin into her own arms as Wheein pulled Yongsun into an embrace. She held her close, rubbing her back, as Yongsun wet the fabric of Wheein’s shirt. Wannie and I looked down at our hands, feeling useless and out of place.

It was many hours later, after Wannie was sent home and after dinner had been cobbled together and hastily eaten, that we dared to broach the subject again. Yongsun was laying across the couch, sleeping soundly on Byulyi’s lap. Wheein was rocking Sooin to sleep in her arms, and I (in spite of the gravity of the whole situation) sat on the arm of the couch, admiring the image of Wheein and the child, and feeling all kinds of warm feelings.

“What do you think we should do?” Wheein whispered.

“She could stay here,” I said.

“But we don’t know what happened.”

“We’ll find out eventually,” I said, giving Wheein’s shoulder a squeeze. “If she needs a place to stay, then she can stay here.”

(Wheein looked at me incredulously, like it was the most ridiculous proposal I could’ve offered. Something told me the original owner of this body liked her space.)

“I...I’d like to stay too then,” Byulyi said with pleading eyes. “Please, I need to show her that she can rely on me. I need to be here for her.”

I raised a brow and gestured to our small living room. “We don't have space for both of you plus Sooin. Besides, you should be going home too.”

Wheein turned to Byulyi. “I’m happy to see you trying, unnie, but you can't overwhelm her either,” she added.

Byulyi looked down and brushed a stray strand of hair from Yongsun’s cheek. “I just want to take care of her too,” she mumbled. “I can’t just leave her like this. She...she means everything to me.”

“I know,” I said, eyes never leaving Wheein’s face.

“But you can’t be hasty,” Wheein finished.

Byulyi said nothing else as she looked down at Yongsun’s sleeping face.

“Ah, I just remembered!” Wheein cried, nearly waking the child in her arms. Sooin stirred slightly, but soon snuggled deeper into Wheein’s shoulder at the comforting warmth of a stroking hand. Wheein lowered her voice. “Hyejin, did you remember to tell umma and appa to come down?”

Of course I didn’t. I didn’t even know how to send a letter around here (or anywhere). I’d only been outside the vicinity of this diner once, and that was to go to Byulyi’s house for a drink. So I just shrugged.

She turned to me with a raised brow. “Did you forget?”

(I hadn’t. I was just incompetent, but I tried my best to look mournful.)

“That’s okay,” Wheein said. “It might be for the best. We can’t have them here now if Yongsun stays here. Aish, maybe we can get them to go straight to America. Do you think they’ll listen? I’ll write to Papa tomorrow and ask him to send them a really nice postcard. They’ll love Hawaii, I’m sure.”

We spent the rest of the night dreaming up scenarios and planning escape routes. Nothing was conclusive, of course--we didn’t even know what kind of trouble we were in. All we knew was that we had a cellar just within the general circumference of the diner, the perfect place to hide in case trouble came, and that alone made this place the safest place to be for Yongsun.

Byulyi eventually fell asleep in her seat, her head laid back against the couch and her arm boldly draping across Yongsun’s waist. Wheein and I took Sooin back to our room, and both of us were so worn that all we wanted to do was sleep. So with the kid safely tucked between the both of us, we soon drifted off.

The next morning, I awoke to the smell of fresh eggs and the sound of a sizzling pan. Sooin was the first to wake, and immediately started crying for her mother (there’s nothing worse than waking up next to two strangers, even in our adult lives). Wheein and I scrambled out of bed, and brought her to the kitchen. Yongsun stood, half turned to greet us as she fried up some eggs. She wore Wheein’s checkered green apron and a bright smile, perfectly complementing the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window, casting its orange glow all around her carefully combed hair.

God, she was so pretty. Even though she was older now, she was just as radiant as the college senior and just as toned as her apocalyptic reflection. It wasn’t until I felt an elbow digging into my ribs that I realized I was staring.

“Stop staring,” Wheein demanded with an angry little pout. I glanced at Yongsun, hoping to find some sympathy, but she only chuckled and turned her attention back to the eggs.

I threw my hands up defensively. “She was really pretty?” I tried. Wheein pursed her lips even more. I had to try harder. “B-b-but not as pretty as you of course, my beautiful, gorgeous, se--”

Behind us, a throat cleared. We both turned to see Byulyi, who crossed her arms over her dress and eyed us like we were in trouble, especially me. “There are children present,” she said, gesturing to Sooin. The little girl peeked out from Yongsun’s legs.

Over breakfast, we confirmed our plan of action. We knew we couldn’t close down the diner--that would be too suspicious. Even though none of us dared to say it out loud, we all knew that any rumours caused by last night’s commotion could put us all in danger. We needed a convincing story, something scandalous for the ahjummas, but totally dismissed if soldiers caught wind.

Wheein volunteered right away, and nobody could object. She would make her rounds around town as soon as the doors opened. Meanwhile, Byulyi and I volunteered to retrieve Yongsun’s bags from the Harley, and, at Yongsun’s request, hide the motorcycle somewhere.

Yongsun stayed in our apartment with Sooin, and we dropped by whenever we could throughout the day to make sure she was comfortable. She came down only after lunch, when we were sure no one else would show up. Each time we saw her, she would drop little pieces of her story, which I pieced together whenever the clamour of the diner dimmed down.

As far as I understood, Seoul had definitely fallen. The enemy line pushed through the border, and into the capital. Yongsun didn’t stick around to see it collapse, but the rumble of tanks and the rattle of gunfire was enough. “They ambushed us all across the border. The foreigners that were supposed to help us, but...well, what do they know about our country?” Yongsun had said with a resigned sigh.

As for Yongsun: “I was only a few miles south of Chuncheon when they cornered us against the river. This was maybe, gosh, six days ago? Harley saved my life, you know. But the platoon that was there...I hope the communists aren’t as cruel as they say. I...I was the only one who made it, I think. I don’t...I don’t think the army knows I’m still alive, but if they did they will definitely drag me back. I can’t go back.”

She drove straight back here since then, stopping only at scattered American camps throughout the country to beg for fuel and food. In exchange for their secrecy and hospitality, she took their letters. (There was something in her expression that told me there was more to what she had to do, despite the deep pain etched into her smile that tried to convince us otherwise. In the end, I never found the courage to ask.)

When she got arrived, she begged her sister and brother-in-law to leave, but they refused. “They told me everything was fine, and that it was not much safer in Busan. There was nothing else I could say, so I took Sooin and came here. I...I didn’t really know where else I could go.”

At this point, I didn’t have a clue how I was supposed to get back to the spirit realm. Byulyi spent more and more time with Yongsun, basically breaking into my house whenever she could, but I couldn’t imagine Yongsun thinking about romance, not while she had Sooin to worry about, and the constant threat of danger looming over her head. Soldiers passed through our diner almost every day, and we would hold our breaths.

By early July, we were still just as ignorant about what was going on at the front. There were rumours from passing travellers that the North Koreans were sweeping through toward the south, but we were too busy dealing with our own shit to care. While the soldiers never came looking for Yongsun, we couldn’t stop the force of Wheein’s rumour-spreading efforts backfiring in our faces.

The original story was innocent enough. Yongsun had a babysitting crisis when she came into the diner that night. She was late to a date, and her sister was out of town, so she was more than stressed out. It was the kind of story that fit perfectly into people’s memories. Unfortunately, since we continued to hide Yongsun in our apartment, crazier theories started to spread.

She had run away with an officer. She was pregnant with another child. She had gone to live with a one-eyed sheep rancher and his harem in the hills of New Zealand (that one was oddly specific). Her date gave her food poisoning and she was still on the toilet to this day.

People were fascinated by the missing woman, and it was definitely getting to Yongsun. She spent her evenings pacing the length of my living room. Eventually, she claimed, she will become such a legend that people will actually start looking for her. I assured her that the ajummas and ajussis wouldn’t go that far, but she just continued pacing.

“Wheein-ah,” I said one evening as we laid in bed, “we need a bigger scandal.”

Wheein put down the book she’d been reading, and turned to me with a wicked grin. “Ahn Hyejin, you sure know know the way to a girl’s heart,” she said. “Maybe we can pretend to break up, then come back with Sooin and tell everyone that she’s my child, and--”

“Not us, Wheein,” I said, laughing as I messed up her bangs. “Why would you even want to be in the middle of a scandal?”

“It gets boring sometimes,” she responded, pouting so hard that I couldn’t resist zoning in for a kiss.

A few minutes of very distracting flirting later, I reluctantly went back to the issue at hand. “We need a bigger scandal for Yongsun-unnie,” I said. “What if people really do start looking for her. Like you said, it gets boring around here. People are bored.”

Wheein snuggled into my shoulder as she picked up her book again. Smiling, I wrapped my arm around her, and played with her curly hair as she spoke. “I don’t know,” she said, “these rumours are really hard to top. Some of the ahjummas around here are so creative. I’m almost jealous.”

“What if we just tell them the truth?”

Wheein whipped around so quickly that she collided into my jaw. I cursed--my god how I cursed--as soon as my teeth clamped down on my tongue during the impact. All the while, Wheein apologized and tried to kiss me better, and fortunately, it didn’t take much to get lost in her warm chocolate eyes. I contained my screaming inside my head while she gently rubbed circles around my stomach. (It was a weird habit now that I think about it, but it was such a practiced gesture that I didn’t complain--besides, it felt so good. I tucked the memory into the back of my mind, and hoped that I could convince my own Wheein to give me a belly rub someday.)

“I don’t mean the real, actual truth. Some kind of truth,” I said. “I was thinking we can have Yongsun talk to some of the regulars who come in, and explain her situation in some way. Not the real truth, but something to satisfy the bored ahujmmas and ahjussis.”

“Maybe a forbidden relationship?” Wheein said, nonchalantly flipping a page.  
“That date story? We could use that. Maybe she went on that date and--”

“Got kidnapped!”

“No.”

“Realized she was in love with someone else all her life?”

“Closer. What if--”

“She was abducted by aliens!”

I reached under her arms and tickled her, narrowly dodging a headbutt as she squealed. “Let me speak!” I roared with all the ferocity of a housecat.

“Okay, okay,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. With her thumb and forefinger, she clamped down on an invisible zipper at the edge of her lips and pulled.

I told her what I had in mind, but as you might know, dear reader, things seldom go according to plan. In the moment, of course, it doesn’t matter what you’ve learned in all previous experiences. You get excited, and you have only the best intentions and highest expectations. You forget to be prepared.

So when Yongsun was sent downstairs the next day, during the noontime ajumma rush, the last thing we expected was for the diner to be filled with Korean soldiers. I immediately rushed Yongsun back up the stairs, and though I don’t think they noticed, they did stop to ask questions.

A tall man with a grim expression approached me and Wheein at the counter and asked for a cup of coffee. His uniform looked painstakingly well-kept, like he had nothing else to live for in his life.

“By the way,” he said, setting down the coffee mug, “you girls seen a female soldier around here? ‘Bout 160cm, brown hair. Got a government-issue WLA. That’s a Harley-Davidson, in case you didn’t know. Real loud.”

I could feel Wheein tense up behind me, though her back was turned as she pretended to busy herself with the coffee machine.

“No, sir,” I replied with a practiced smile.

He slipped a wrinkled black-and-white photograph across the counter. “Kim Yongsun. Know her?”

I pretended to take close interest in the photograph, and shook my head. “With all due respect, sir, people come in and out of my diner all the time, so I can’t say I know for sure. I think I’ve seen her a few times, but I don’t think I’ve seen her around for a while.”

(My heart was racing. I’d never considered myself a good liar--I was never good at pretending to be someone I wasn’t, but I hoped that my practice during the last god knows how many days has paid off. All I could hope for was that he wouldn’t see through my weird speech patterns.)

He scoffed, then took another sip of coffee. “Word is there’s a missing girl around here by that name. Her family lives around here too. Sure you don’t know?”

I tried to muster up my most condescending (and genuine) laugh. “You can’t believe those rumours, sir. Unless you really think she’s in some New Zealand cult growing drugs and selling them to children.”

“I thought she was in Japan working for an underground pornographic magazine,” he said with a chuckle. Then he cleared his throat, and downed the rest of his coffee before he continued. “In all seriousness now, miss, are you acquainted with her family at all?”

I pretended to look at the photograph one more time. “I think she has a sister?” I said, pointing to her face. “Same eyes. Comes by here once in awhile with her family. Don’t think I’ve ever seen them together though. They’re nice, but I can’t say I know them well.”

“Hm, well then,” he said, throwing a couple of coins on the counter, “thank you for your time, miss.” He tipped his cap, and left.

That night, just after closing, Yongsun’s sister, Yonghee, and her husband came rushing in. While Sooin was ecstatic to see her aunt and uncle, no one else seemed to share the sentiment as we found ourselves sitting around the coffee table once again. Byulyi was staying over--she was brave enough now to stop stuttering and wrap her arm around Yongsun’s shoulders, though she blushed and made her excuses, especially under the skeptical looks from Yonghee.

(She had, in her own fumbling ways, taken care of Yongsun over the last few days. She spent her breaks in our apartment, or out running errands for the distraught woman. The flowers on the coffee table was changed every day, wildflowers that Byulyi would pick on her way to the general store to buy a sweet for Sooin. She spoiled Sooin, really, probably beyond what it took to get into her mother’s pants.)

“S-so what did they say?” Youngsun said, nervously tugging at the hem of her dress.

(Yonghee-unnie was very pretty. I know this is probably not a good time, but I had to tell you, dear reader. She looked so much like Yongsun, but I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was that mature elegance. I didn’t fail to notice that even Byulyi was having a hard time tearing her eyes away, in spite of her arm resting protectively across Yongsun’s shoulders.)

Yonghee sighed as she looked down at the little girl clinging to her leg. Her husband, a clean, mustached guy, gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, as if he could see exactly what she was thinking. (He didn’t say much, but made all kinds of googly eyes at his wife despite the gravity of the situation--reminded me a bit of another lovesick idiot I knew.)

“Those ROK men were looking for you,” Yonghee said, running a hand through Sooin’s hair. “It seemed like they were intrigued by the rumours that sprang up about the girl who came into the diner, but fortunately the stories have gotten so out of hand that they’re not believing any of it anymore. They…” She trailed off, and looked at her husband for support.

I held Wheein just a little closer then, fearing the worst. She snaked her arm around my waist in response.

“A-are they going to take me back?” Yongsun asked meekly.

Yonghee bit her lip for a moment (again, not a good time, but it was uncomfortably sexy). “Well,” she said hesitantly, “it seemed like the platoon that was with you in Chuncheon...they were taken prisoner by the North Koreans, but there...there was a bomb, or a fire, I don’t know, but the entire platoon was wiped out. There’s nothing left.”

Yongsun listened with wide eyes. Even Sooin looked up at her aunt, sensing something in her wavering voice. “Unnie, what are you saying?” Yongsun breathed. Byulyi reached down and held her hand tightly as Yongsun began to tremble, though her eyes were fixed on Yonghee.

“They...they think you’re dead.”

It was probably no exaggeration to say that the whole world came to a standstill in that moment. At least, our world certainly did. How the hell is anyone supposed to react to news like that? How do you live the rest of your life in the shadows, in a new identity?

I braced myself, wrapped both arms around Wheein as we stood by the doorway, waiting for something to erupt out of Yongsun. Fear? Worry? Grief?

Anything but the insane laughter that came instead.

Insane laughter that lasted for so long, that I knew I definitely wasn’t the only one wishing for the earth to swallow me whole. It seemed like there was no amount of awkward staring and fidgeting that would stop Yongsun from laughing. Even Byulyi was shifting uncomfortably, wondering if she should disentangle herself from Yongsun’s quaking body.

Then laughter bubbled into tears--quiet, muffled, heartbreakingly sad. I couldn’t even imagine how it must feel to have your life, your entire identity, ripped away in just a moment. Walking through dimensions--this was temporary. One day, I would go back to my deadbeat life, and as fucked up as it was, at least I had the freedom to live through my life. At least I didn’t have to hide, to pretend.

But as I watched Sooin wander up to Yongsun’s knees, wrapping her little hands over her and Byulyi’s held hands, my heart broke for them. “Umma?” Sooin said, tilting her head up to look at the wet trails of her mother’s grief. Yongsun withdrew her hand from Byulyi’s and lifted her daughter up onto her knees, holding her like it was the last time.

Wheein spoke for all of us when she asked, “What happens now?”

Everyone stared down at their feet.

“You...won’t be able to stay here,” Yonghee said carefully. “Unless you turn yourself in.”  
“No,” Byulyi said firmly, “Yongsun-unnie will be seen as a defector for leaving the army. I...I don’t think the ROK will take this kindly. It’s not worth the risk.”

“You’re right,” Yonghee said, running a hand over her face. “But she still can’t stay here. They will recognize you.”

Yongsun stared at her sister with reddened eyes. “You’re right,” she said, her voice cracked and dry from the emotion. “I can’t impose on you anymore.” She spoke as if it was a resigned fact, one that nobody could dispute. One part dispassionate, one part sorrowful. It was too dangerous to stay.

“You can still hide here while we figure it out,” Wheein said, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. I nodded quickly from behind Wheein.

Yonghee and her husband looked at each other, pensive but scared, like they knew they needed to do more. The way they looked at Sooin, sitting quietly on her broken mother’s lap, there was love there, I think, but they must’ve been thinking of their own family too. Yonghee’s watery eyes wavered with guilt as she stepped forward and embraced Yongsun. Her husband scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he reached for his wallet.

“S-some money to help you get by,” he mumbled, placing a small stack of notes on the coffee table. I wanted to reach over and pummel the guy, but Yongsun just smiled graciously through the residual tears, like he had just extended way past the limits of his generosity and accomplished something amazing. Nobody else seemed phased.

It was all polite bows and quiet well-wishes until the couple had left.

(I was angry, you know. I really was. They could’ve done so much, could’ve at least made some fake promises. I don’t know. Later, I did find out that Yonghee had a baby on the way, and I guess...if Yongsun had the heart to forgive, who was I to stay angry?)

The next morning, Wheein and I found our overstuffed pillows on the floor. Byulyi laid sleeping between the coffee table and the couch, with Yongsun squeezed in on top of her, her hand on her chest and her head on her shoulder. Above them, Sooin slept, comfortably curled up on the couch beneath her blankets.

Byulyi stirred at the sound of our footsteps creeping into the living room, and waved for us to go away. I had half a mind to drag her out of bed and kick her ass for that kind of attitude, but Wheein quickly pushed me back into our bedroom and, well, let’s just say she made it easy for me to forget the little things.

The rest of the day passed by, eerily like the others, but as much as Wheein and Wannie tried, the air was still thick with...something. It wasn’t danger, no--we didn’t have to freak out whenever a soldier walked in. Not so much anymore. But by the way we caught each other staring into space, lost in thought, or messing up, it was clear that we were still concerned.

No one could tell what Yongsun was thinking, though a faraway look often glazed her eyes. None of us seemed to have an answer to the next step.

Or so we thought.

That night, I asked Wannie to provide us with a feast. Something we can enjoy, guilt-free, even if it was just a bandaid. As simple as it was, the last few days had been so fraught with discomfort that all anyone really needed was something normal for a change. I insisted that we all stay at the diner after closing and eat a proper meal together. We all gathered at the circular booth in the diner, with the addition of Sooin this time, seated between Yongsun and Wheein.

“Eat up,” Wannie said, standing up as she lifted a glass of water up above her head, “tonight, I propose that we forget all of our troubles and just let go for a while.”

We cheered and we applauded, and, for a while, it really was wonderful. We laughed and ate and gossiped with no concern for anything else. It was as if the world outside our diner didn’t exist, as if I belonged here, and as if Yongsun was still (legally) alive, free to live her life, free to go anywhere she wanted to.

But suddenly, Byulyi stood, and asked us all to quiet down. We doused the laughter, but our stupid grins remained.

“Yongsun-unnie, everyone,” she began, “I know that this might not be a very good time. I know none of you want to think about what’s happening, but I can’t stop thinking about it.” She spoke with her arms down her sides, and suddenly all the smiles and the mirth disappeared.

She turned to Yongsun, and continued, “Yongsun-unnie. I know our...date...didn’t really end well. I...forced a lot of feelings on you, and that wasn’t fair. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but this whole...situation,” she paused, eyes darting around, as if suddenly self conscious of being heard, “has been hard on both you and Sooin, and, well…”

“Get to the point,” Wheein whispered loudly, nudging Byulyi’s hip with an elbow. I quickly shushed her and urged Byulyi to continue.

Byulyi took a big breath. “The point is, unnie, I want to take care of you. I have some money saved up, and I’ve been thinking that I can help you build a house just outside of town, or wherever you want to go. I’ll take care of Sooin too. I’ll...I’ll...you can rely on me, I promise.”

We all sat, stunned, at what seemed to be the fumbling beginnings of a marriage proposal.

“Byul-ah,” Yongsun said, looking away for a moment to sort through the words in her head, “That’s too much for me to ask of you. It’s not going to be that easy. I don’t--”

Byulyi sat down again, and immediately grasped Yongsun’s hand with both hands. Sooin watched them quietly with an awed smile.

“Trust me, unnie. I will work hard for you. I...I know what I want now. I’ll stop fooling around with my life. I promise you that I….I….I love you, Yongsun-unnie.”

Yongsun blushed. She opened her mouth to respond, but I couldn't hear a thing.

I blacked out.

 

When I next opened my eyes, I saw stars. My hand, which had been clasped so tightly around Wheein’s, laid empty on the bed as I immediately shut my eyes. As if that would bring me back.

I wanted to throw up--partly from the vertigo, and partly from being torn from that diner and that life so suddenly. Yes, I wanted to come back. Badly. But not with so much unresolved. Not like this.

What did Yongsun say? My breathing was so loud that it seemed to fill the room.

In the darkness behind my eyes, my mind raced. I pictured Yongsun, accepting Byulyi’s hand. I pictured Wheein, startled by my sudden collapse. I pictured the war raging all around them. I don't know. There were so many unanswered questions, and so much to worry about. They had become my friends in the short while I had known them, and I needed to know that they would be okay.

But how?

When I opened my eyes once more, I stared up at the ceiling. The sun and moon had moved closer together--I was sure of it this time.

Yongsun accepted Byulyi into her heart. They recognized their mutual love for each other, even if it's not obvious to someone looking in. That was the only conclusion I could come up with. It wasn't a kiss, wasn't sex. Just mutual understanding.

The kind of understanding that I lacked with Wheein.

God, lying in this empty bed, I missed her warmth almost immediately. Even if it was just the touch of her hand. That was when I realized that I was utterly alone in that white room. I sat up and rolled off the bed, and made my way toward the closet, feelings and emotions bursting in my chest. I wanted to tell her everything, but I was so fucking scared.

The fear crept from my heart and into my throats as I reached the shutters. It nearly blinded me as I threw the doors wide open.

The closet was immaculate.  
“Wheein?” I called.

Silence.

I searched every nook and cranny, patted down every spot on the wall, and swept across every inch of the floors in search of maybe a trap door or a secret room--something. I wandered out to the halls, tried every door. There was no knob on any of them, but I tried to push through anyway. I grew more and more desperate to find Wheein (and equally desperate to stop thinking about the diner), but the hours went on, and I was tired. I didn’t find a single hair.

Alone again, I thought as I splayed out on the bed.

I must’ve napped about six times as I waited. Didn’t have a clue what I was waiting for. I went from desperate, to hysterical, to depressed, to just...indifferent as I retreated inside my head. I tried to stop thinking about Wheein. Stop thinking about Yongsun and Byulyi. Stop thinking about the war. Eventually, I even managed to stop thinking about the ring I used to have on my finger and the Wheein I’d woken up next to every morning for the last month.

I thought about nothing at all as I stared up at the sun and the moon on the ceiling.

Days must’ve passed when I awoke one night beside a warm body.

I heard a low groan, and flew out of bed, pinching myself as I wondered if all this loneliness, grief, and boredom had stirred up the wildest parts of my imagination.

“W-wheein?” I tried, cautiously climbing back into bed.

The lump beneath the covers shivered and stirred. It turned and shifted, then slowly opened her eyes, watching me blearily through her fatigue. My angel with the chocolate brown hair smiled.

“Hyejin?” she said.

WIthout thinking, I scurried closer, and threw my entire body onto hers. I couldn’t stop the tears and the snot and the ugly gasping as I tried to choke out how much I’d missed her. “I missed you too,” she said, ruffling the back of my head as she laughed. There was a musicality to her voice that I haven’t heard in what felt like forever. We held each other like we were back in our old flat, like nothing else mattered.

Before the parking lot. Before the orange Pony. Before all of this, back when we were just best friends who laughed the day away in each other’s arms. When my memories were solely my own. When I was satisfied with quietly loving her, and life was simple.

No, nothing else mattered in that moment. Just me and her. But things were different now. I’d been running blind for so long that I’d finally hit a brick wall. I realized in that moment, as I buried my face in Wheein’s shoulder, that we could never go back to the past.

I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t totally, completely, absolutely, irrevocably in love with her. I couldn’t pretend to be satisfied with being just her best friend. I needed to make things right.

“Hyejinie,” she mumbled into my hair, “you’ll never guess what happened to me.”

Her heart beat quickly against my ear. She wrapped her arms around me loosely, hesitantly.

“Wait,” I said, shuffling backwards so I could look her in the eyes. “I need to tell you something.”

Wheein nodded. I pulled the covers over us, and we laid there facing each other. I found myself quickly getting lost in her familiar warmth. This is where I’m meant to be, I told myself, and it gave me just the boost of courage I needed.

“When I...went through the yellow door...a...a lot happened,” I said slowly. I grasped for words as Wheein watched me, leaning ever so slightly closer, eyes wide and expectant. “I...I realize now that I’ve been an idiot.”

“Can’t argue with that,” she said with a grin. I reached over, under the covers, to punch her in the shoulder, but she caught my hand halfway, and held it there between her own. “Go on,” she urged, her voice low and inviting. I wanted to kiss her right there, but I held myself back. I needed to say the words I needed to say, or I knew I would lose my nerve.

“I realized”--I ducked my eyes down to avoid her gaze--“I couldn’t...I mean, how could I live without you? I...”

I felt a soft kiss on my forehead. “You can say it,” she whispered.

“I love you.”

A tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek when she closed her eyes and breathed, “Finally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the massive support for my last chapter! Once again, I cannot tell you, my dear readers, how much I appreciate all of you. This chapter was a whopping 40 pages and 18k words--y’all said you liked long chapters, so I hope I delivered~
> 
> I did a lot of research for this chapter, but, of course, the real situation has been adapted to fit the needs of my story. I am by no means a historian, so if any of you guys are more familiar with this situation, please don’t hesitate to let me know in the comments! 
> 
> If you’re interested, I’d like to share some of the background information I based this chapter on. This was my first time attempting a historical genre in any way, so it was a lot of fun and a very interesting challenge to work my story around it.
> 
> First, I chose Busan as the setting of this chapter because of the Battle of the Pusan (Romanization changed to Busan in 2000) Perimeter. This was one of the most crucial battles of the Korean War, since North Korea would’ve taken over the entire peninsula if not for this whole ONE LAST STAND situation.
> 
> In the timeline of this story, Hyejin enters the world on June 16, 1950, and not much is going on at this point. It isn’t until June 29th that Seoul is captured. While Yongsun is recuperating, North Korean forces are sweeping across the country (Hyejin has between two weeks and a month to rescue her parents in Jeonju.) 
> 
> One of the biggest liberties I took with history with the media. As a non-Korean speaker, most of the sources I had to use were from the American point of view, which is really limited and useless for the purpose of my story. The circulation of newspapers, postal service (Korea doesn’t have a postal service for a very long time), and other methods of communications were a bit of a gray area in my research. 
> 
> Were there messengers in the Korean War? To my understanding, there was radio/telephone communication happening, but the ROK (the Republic of Korea army) was only two years old at this point, so I took a lot of liberties there as well. 
> 
> For you careful readers out there, there is a single line about the devastation of books during the raids. I found that many libraries were burnt down at this time, and that always makes me sad :(
> 
> The Harley-Davidson WLA was a real part of the Korean War. They revived it from WWII, and I just thought it would be super badass for Yongsun to have a motorcycle. 
> 
> As always, to anyone who reads my works: you are loved <3


	5. The Fourth Door: Part 1

“I love you.”

When I spoke those three words, time seemed to stretch to infinity and collapse into a single moment at the same time. I held my breath in anticipation of the next era in our lives. Riding on expectations built up and smashed down over the years, I anticipated some hesitance, maybe some reluctance. The way her lips parted, her eyes widened were so familiar yet so alien—I’d spent half my life beside my angel, but I’d never felt so unsure of anything in my life. I knew she loved me, but was it the same way I loved her? Did she want this? I couldn’t tell through my own bleary eyes.

I brushed off a tear rolling down her cheek with the pad of my thumb. Maybe that should’ve been the first sign, but all I could think about was how hard my heart was beating, and how I could lose everything in three stupid words. Even in that damn moment, I couldn’t see her properly.

“I’ve been waiting all my life to hear those words.”

No, I thought, I must be dreaming. Thank god Wheein was still holding my hand, or I probably would’ve slapped myself so hard that I’d see the secrets of the universe. I heard myself making unintelligible noises as I helplessly watched the tears stream down my angel’s face.

She released my hand just long enough to wipe off the tears with the back of her own hand, and sat up, gently tugging me up with her. I felt the urge to wiped her tears and take it all back if it meant I could put a smile back on her face, but the blood pulsed against my skull as I registered warmth of her fingers in my own. She held both my hands in her lap, and I succumbed to all of the love I felt reflecting back.

Maybe this was when I saw her for the first time—really saw her. I’d spent my life as a ghost, pining and running and drowning, making love to the demons in my head when I should’ve just tried to see her. I tried to memorize every line and feature on her face, and when I looked into her eyes, I fought the instinct to look for my troubled self inside her pupils.

For once, everything became so clear to me. I saw her unbridled joy, saw her captivation. I loved her so, so much then, more than I ever thought I could, and it didn’t hurt. All I felt was love, and the overwhelming urge to kiss her.

When we leaned in and our lips finally met, it was like we were made for this moment, like the world didn't exist—and, really, in our vacuum-sealed box of time and space, it didn’t seem unreasonable.

All the kisses we’d ever shared culminated into this one moment of affirmation, of love exploding like supernovas behind my eyes. Her lips were salty with tears, yet so soft...to be able to kiss them so confidently, without guilt, without the weights I’d strapped onto our love—nothing felt more right.

When we finally pulled away, her smile was the sweetest I’ve ever seen. “You’ve really kept me waiting,” she whispered, softly slapping the curve of my shoulder. While joy was bursting out of my chest with every passing moment, there was something else hiding in hers. I couldn’t pin it down, and my heartbeat picked up, fearing the worst. But her laughter was musical and light and so uniquely hers that I couldn’t help but listen—-really listen—and allow it to set me at ease.

“Ahn Hyejin,” she said, resting her forehead on my shoulder, and I was glad I didn’t have to meet her eyes. “You’ve been in love with me since...I don’t even know when. I can’t believe you’ve made me wait this long. You know, I would probably kill you if I wasn’t so crazy about you too.”

My hands reached for her shoulder, gently pulling her back to meet my eyes “W-what? How did you know?”

“You’re not exactly hard to read. You wear everything on your face, you know that? And your touch,” she paused, the words floating like a butterfly between us as a shy smile coloured her pretty lips, “doesn’t lie. You’re more honest than you give yourself credit for.”

“If you knew then...why didn’t you say anything?”

She looked down at our nestled hands, and heaved a sigh so deep it sounded like her entire soul had left her body. “I’ve tried to make my feelings clear so many times. Whenever I think you’re going to be brave and finally say those-those darn words! ...You never do--no matter how hard I try to push you to.”

“You...could’ve just told me.”

She sighed once more as she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, like she was trying to come up with the perfect incantation to express her feelings. Silently, I watched her conflict, my hands growing clammy inside her loose grip.

“I,” she said finally, “I...I needed to know you felt the same way. Because sometimes, you make it really, really obvious, but other times, I think all you want to do is hurt me. You get jealous over everyone, but you’d never do anything about it! It’s like you want to keep me for yourself, but how do you think I’m supposed to feel when you’re running off dating random girls all the time? For a long time, I...I” — she looked up and gave me the saddest look I’ve ever seen— “thought you’d pick any girl over me. And if that was true...if I told you and you rejected me—god—how would you expect me to live?”

“B-but you dated—” Fuck, I couldn’t even breathe.

Wheein dropped my hands then, and slapped both her palms on either side of my cheeks. I winced, but the hot coals in her eyes seared my mouth shut. “Tell me,” she said, her voice a near growl, “How many people have I dated?”

(I ran a list of names in my head, a series of blurry faces really. How many dates do you have to go on for it to be considered dating? I pictured Wheein standing like a paper doll, holding hands with different people—a generic body and a rubbed out face—one after another.)

I swallowed. “The guy you stole the guitar from?”

“Hyejin,” she gave me a sharp look, and pinched down on my cheeks. “For the ten thousandth time, Heechul-oppa gave that to me as a gift! He stole it from his ex-boyfriend. We never dated!”

My cheeks stung. “But you said…”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “I said he’s cute, but that doesn’t mean I would date him! See, Hyejin? If you paid attention, you’d notice how crazy I am about you! Yes, I’ve gone out on too many weekends and gotten drunk and made out with one too many strangers because you make me feel so, so...freaking lonely all the time, but I’ve...I’ve always been here waiting for you to notice me—I’ve been waiting so goddamn long I can’t even be with you sometimes because it hurts so goddamn much—but you’re just...either really goddamn stupid or really blind.”

“I’m...I’m sorry,” I mumbled. It sounded so pathetic and hollow even to my own ears. What the fuck was an apology supposed to do for Wheein after all that I’ve done? I covered her hands with my own and held them there limply, full of wanting and fear. When she finally released my cheeks, I wiped the side of my face with my shoulder. “It’s a lot of both,” I said sheepishly.

“You’re damn right it’s both,” she cried, knocking at my shoulder with a fist. She threw herself onto me, wrapping her arms tightly around my back. I breathed in her vibrations in the midst of her quiet anger as she spoke. “It kills me every time we sleep together, but you never seemed to notice, nor did you ever seem to care. Sometimes you looked at me like I was your whole world, and sometimes you’d make me feel like I was just a convenient body. Do you even realize that we’ve only made love once? One time. The first time...when you drank too much to remember all the things you said that night. It was so sweet, Hyejin...if only you knew…if only I knew...if I knew it was the last time you were going to make love to me like that, I...I...I swear to god I would’ve put a stop to it sooner, but...I don’t know, maybe I’m a masochist for wishing you might come around some day. I just...love you so damn much, but, god, I’m so mad at you right now.”

There was no amount of words to describe the torment as I tried to channel every ounce of pain I’d inflicted on my angel into my own heart.

“If...if you hadn’t told me,” she whispered into my shoulder, “I think I...I would’ve told you eventually. W-where I’ve been...the door I went through...it showed me the most wonderful things. I had everything I’d ever dreamed of wanting, and I don’t think I would’ve been able to live if I had to come back to the way things were.”

I held her closer, and gently kissed the back of her neck. “Things will never go back to the way they were before,” I vowed. “I won’t run anymore, I promise. I’ll...I’ll...I’ll be a better person, I swear.”

Her hands travelled up to my waist, holding me there against her. We stayed like this for a long time, just feeling each other, feeling the way our hearts beat. I couldn’t tell if they were in time with each other, but it didn’t matter. I would have my demons, and she would have hers, but none of it mattered anymore.

We loved each other.

I felt like I could take on the world.

We made love for the first time all over again. Her skin against mine—it felt new, raw, and so sacred, and so unlike every other time, where I thought that if I slowed down, she’d see right through me. For the first time, I wanted her to see everything: how much she thrilled me, how weak her touch made me, yet how strong she made me feel when I held her in my arms.

As we laid in each other’s embrace, I thought, maybe, I could see right through her too. And for once, I had no more doubts. Her quivering insecurities, her tentative touches, and her wary eyes--wrinkles for us to smooth out together with time.

To think how easily our worlds aligned. All it took were a few simple words to set my soul on fire: she snuggled closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry I’ve been such an idiot, but I swear I’ll try to make it up to you every day.”

She chuckled and pulled away, and I frowned, missing her warmth almost immediately. “That sounds like a marriage proposal” — she smirked, and I felt the tip of my ears get warm— “I’m okay with that.”

I sat up then, and laid my head on the headboard. “There’s something else I have to tell you.” I swept back her hair and tucked the long strands behind her ear. I kept my gaze on my hand as I ran it down her cheeks and along her jawline.

Where could I begin? How could I possibly put everything I went through into words? How do I tell her about making love to her other self? There was so much I could say, so much I was afraid to say, and so much I knew I needed to say in spite of the fear.

“There’s something I need to tell you too,” she said, biting her lip. “It’s about the door I went through.”

“Which door?” I asked, tugging the blanket up to Wheein’s shoulder.

“The yellow and blue one.”

I froze. “With the kiss mark?”

“Yes… Why do you sound so surprised?”

I shook my head. “No, I went through that one. You weren’t with me. I mean, you were there, but it wasn’t you. It just can’t be. I would know if it was you.” I rambled on, gesturing vaguely as I spoke, unable to stop the words from pouring out. “I-I made love to you, wishing so badly it was you, but it wasn’t you, and, oh god, I never meant to, but we were married and I was just so happy and-and…”

My heart was ready to burst into an ocean of guilty tears, but a comforting pair of arms reached up, yanked me out of the hole I was digging for myself, and engulfed me in warmth.

“It’s okay,” she cooed, “it’s okay, it’s okay. We’re okay now.” She cradled my head, and held me. It was just like the time I’d woken up from my nightmare, and Wheein was there to soothe me back to sleep--except this was real, and just the scent of my angel alone was enough to make me want to surrender my soul to her.

But despite her words, and the strength of her presence, her hands shook ever so slightly as she held my cheeks. “I know I wasn’t with you,” she whispered, her breath tingling my neck. “But I...was married to you too, except she wasn’t you, and we...we made love too.”

“What?”

We talked for a long time, exchanging stories, leaving nothing behind. There was only one explanation for our parallel lives—neither of us could believe it, but it was the only conclusion that made sense.

Some people believe that no matter what we do in our lives, we will always come to the same destination. Even if I, for example, stayed in school, or even if I became Hwasa somehow, I might’ve still ended up here, in the spirit realm holding Wheein and everything. I don’t know if I believe that. It’s honestly too much to wrap my head around. All I can say is that this kind of thing happened to the both of us.

After I went through the yellow door, Wheein spent a long time in that closet, leaving only to eat and use the bathroom every once in awhile.

“I must’ve been in there for two days,” she had said as she laid her head in my lap. I ran my fingers through her hair absentmindedly as she spoke. “I don’t know for sure...I was so bored I must’ve lost track of time. It could’ve been a whole week for all I knew, but it was a long time. I was so damn pissed at myself and at just about everything. Just seeing how differently my life could’ve turned out. I kept thinking about not growing up with you, and still being able to find you. Not just find you, but actually be with you in spite of everything. I thought my homeless self was amazing—to have...nothing but art and passion probably, and still be able to seem attractive to you. I don’t know. I must’ve been so strong and resilient and...everything I’m not.

“Then I started thinking about...all of this stuff we’ve been through. Like what’s going to happen to us when we finally leave this place? How long have we even been here? Can we leave? Can I spend an eternity racing through worlds with you, Hyejin? I just felt crazy, you know?”

I leaned down then, and kissed her fiercely. I couldn’t even begin apologizing all over again for all the bullshit I put her through. All I could say was the truth: “I wouldn’t mind doing this for the rest of eternity if I’m with you, my beautiful, strong Jung Wheein. Not just because real life scares the shit out of me—it still does. I just...I just want to be with you.”

“Me too, Hyejinie. You’ve really kept me waiting,” she said, reaching up and pinching my cheek. “I haven’t forgiven you yet...even though you’re making me so damn happy right now.”

I whined and rubbed my cheek. “Aigo, Hyegi is such a big baby,” she laughed.

She kissed me once more before continuing her account.

When she finally decided that she’d done enough wallowing in her deepest, darkest thoughts, she went to look for me. “I wanted to find you and punch you in the face and tell you how much I hated you for being an idiot, then kiss you better so I can tell you how you’re my whole world because I love you so damn much.” (My heart swelled at that—I was on the verge of overheating and exploding like a star with everything Wheein was doing to me, but she went on innocently, oblivious to my swooning.)

When Wheein went through the yellow door, she awoke in bed. The first things she saw were posters of pin-up girls all over the walls, and a dark head curled up against her side. She had pulled down the covers to reveal a very familiar face sleeping beside her. It was me, of course.

Except...it wasn’t.

“I called your name, but you told me to go back to bed. I yelled at you for leaving me and stuff, but you just looked so confused and asked if I wanted some ice cream—and yes, it was apparently a super normal thing that I just do. Wake up in the middle of the night and ask for ice cream. Then you got all smirky and cool and stuff and asked if I wanted to...you know. I don’t know, I guess I really liked the way you looked at me then—you were so cool and confident and crazy for me—that I—”

“I get it! I get it,” I cried, slapping my hands over my ears. It was childish of me, but I couldn’t help but be jealous. (I was so envious, in fact, that I immediately asked Wheein if she wanted some ice cream, and even though she laughed at my attempt to be “smirky and cool,” we ended up moving to the dining table where we continued our story over ice cream and hotteok.)

My smirky/cool self turned out to be the owner of a diner situated between Daegu and Busan. Byulyi, Yongsun, Sooin, Wannie, and Joohyun—they were all there. Not just that, but the events seemed to unfold the same way. It was the morning of June 20th when Wheein went down to the diner. She remembered because I’d told her so that morning, saying I’d sent a letter to my parents and all that.

More importantly, I remembered this day as the day Byulyi got her heart broken by Yongsun just before she left for the front.

“Byulyi-unnie was all torn up,” Wheein recalled, “but you were relentless. You weren’t afraid to tell her that she didn’t take anything seriously and all that inspirational stuff, while I just kind of stood on the side. I didn’t know what happened, so I didn’t say anything.”

“But that’s impossible,” I huffed, “I was there too. You were the one who said she was too easy-going.”

“I didn’t say anything! Besides, I told you that you weren’t yourself. I don’t know what it was about her that was different—she just felt different. Besides, she just looked at me funny when I mentioned the spirit realm.”

“You’re right,” I said, running a hand down my face as I tried to comprehend what all this meant. “My Wheein was adorable, but she was a huge gossip, and that’s just not like you.”

Wheein waved her kimbap at me then and cried, “Yah! I’m your Wheein! You can’t say she’s yours and call her adorable in the same sentence! Even if she was me, she wasn't really me.”

I leaned across the table and kissed her pouting lips. “My Wheein is the most adorable across all worlds and universes,” I said. I never knew I could smile as widely as I did then.

She tickled my chin. “That’s better.”

“But, Wheein-ah,” I said, “doesn’t this mean…we were both there, but in different places?”

“Parallel universes?” Wheein furrowed her brow. “Like...we were both in two worlds at the same time?”

“No, that’s crazy rright?”

“What else can it be?”

“But that’s crazy!”

Wheein chuckled. “Everything’s been crazy since we left our apartment.”

Even though there were slight differences in our narratives, the biggest events unfolded in more or less the same way. After Byulyi and Yongsun’s less-than-ideal date, Yongsun was off to the front. She came back eleven days later, having escaped the ambush and survived the trek back to Busan.

“We took Yongsun into our house too, and you were so quick on your feet, Hyejinie. The way you commanded the room and tried to solve this whole situation all by yourself—it was cool—so, so cool—but I was scared too. You were taking the whole world on your shoulder and I felt so helpless and you were so damn stubborn and I...oh, Hyejinie, I just hated seeing you like that. Promise me you won’t do that to me. You have to let me help. Promise me, okay?”

She stared hard into my eyes until I gave her a meek nod, then she smiled, leaned over for a swift peck on the lips, and continued.

The day the soldiers came, Wheein’s version of me feigned ignorance just like I had (and I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a swell of pride at being as successful as my accomplished, older self). Everything happened the same way, down to the moment Yonghee showed up, to the way Byulyi had slept on the floor with Yongsun on top of her, and Sooin above them on the couch cushions.

As you know, dear reader, my story quickly ended the next day, when Byulyi professed her love and tossed me back into the spirit realm. Wheein’s story, however, did not end there.

On that last day, I had thrown my friends a feast. Wheein’s Hyejin did not. She had written and delivered that letter to her parents and they showed up that night with bags in every hand and worry in every line on their faces.

“Your umma and appa,” Wheein said, “if you can believe it...looked exactly the same. Just in old timey clothes. They acted the same too! Remember in middle school when I used to come over all the time and I’d help your mom cook and stuff, and how she’d complain about you being a lazy ass the entire time? Well, that’s one thing that will probably never change no matter which world we go into.

“The way she talked too! It was so similar that it was kind of creepy. ‘Wheein-ah, why did you marry my useless daughter? Does she treat you well? If she treats you badly, umma will come and hit her on the head for you, okay Wheeinie?’” She gestured, waving her finger around as she impersonated my mother, and I doubled up in laughter. She and my mother definitely spent too much time together growing up.

I laughed. “Okay, but in middle school it was understandable right?” I said. “I was always busy when you came over.”

Wheein scoffed. “Busy copying my homework!”

Needless to say, our house was getting just a little too crowded with the addition of my parents. While my other self corresponded with Wheein’s parents and arranged for my parents to go to Hawaii, Wheein kept a close eye on Yongsun and Byulyi. The exhausted pair had held each other close, all awkwardness forgotten in the face of something so much bigger. That night, the four of us slept on our living room floor, staying up all night running through our plans while my parents slept in the other room.

“Byulyi didn’t confess right away,” Wheein told me. She paused to sip on her strawberry milk, “but she was very sincere. Just like yours, I think. She wanted to build a house somewhere and whisk Yongsun away like a knight in shining armour. We thought she was just saying all that to impress Yongsun-unnie, but the next day she went and bought a plot of land near the mountains. Cash and everything so it was all secret. It wasn’t very far away from us, but from the way she described it, it was pretty hard to get to if you didn’t know where you were going.”

Amazed, I barely registered Wheein’s words when I heard my own voice. “What?”

“Yeah, and she made this huge scene in our living room, telling Yongsun how much she loved her and Sooin and how she was going to start building a house as soon as she could. She quit the diner too, and you got pissed off because she didn’t let you help with anything, so you demanded her to let you help with the labour. Then everyone was just crying and drowning in love and tears and so many feelings and stuff. Before I knew it, Yongsun threw herself on Byulyi and I blacked out.”

“And now you’re here.”

Wheein grinned. “And I couldn’t be happier.”

I felt a weight lift off my chest too, to think that the Yongsun and Byulyi in my parallel universe might be doing okay. I pictured them in their cottage, raising Sooin together, growing food from a little garden. Living a simple, peaceful life. Maybe when the war ended, Yongsun could change her name and reclaim her identity. Or maybe they would grow old together in that simple lifestyle, finding joy and meaning in ways I can’t even imagine.

I pictured myself with Wheein in a little cabin, years down the line, a toddler on her lap, watching and smiling as I tilled the land under the filtered sunshine beneath the canopy of leaves. Maybe we could be nomadic, wandering the earth in a little boat, fishing for food and selling them in ports. Or maybe—

“What are you grinning at, Hyejinie?”

“Our future,” I said with a tentative smile.

We exchanged grins, but before Wheein could reply, a bone-chilling breeze ran through the room, raising every little hair exposed on my body. Wheein and I exchanged a wide-eyed look. She twisted around to search for the source, but aside from the yellow and the blue square paintings on the wall, nothing seemed different. I stood, ready to fight anyone or anything with the balls to scare my angel.

Our door squeaked open, and in stepped a slim figure clad in a beautiful black suit and a big smile.

“Byulyi!” Wheein cried, shooting up from her seat. “You’re okay!”

The two of us flocked to her like excited puppies, all at once running our hands all over her face and body. She was...real. Her silver hair, her velvet jacket, and her blushing face were all soft and warm and so real. Wheein and I looked at each other, incredulous.

“You’re not a ghost or a hologram or whatever,” I stated, still in shock as I kneaded her cheeks with my fingers.

Byulyi pulled away from our touches, but we were too busy gaping to mind. She blushed a little, and glanced down at her golden cuff links, then pushed back her silver hair with a shy nod. There was no doubt about it—she looked undeniably more vibrant than ever. “Yes,” she said, her eyes curving up through her bangs as she smiled. “I must thank you both for the hard work you have done for me so far. I feel much stronger now. This is my true, material form, one that my soulmate will be able to see.”

“Is she close?” I asked.

Byulyi nodded, her smile stretching wider at the mention of Yongsun. “Thanks to your discovery of a dual universe, I can sense that she is indeed closer. I do not know her exact location, but I can say that she too is resonating with much more strength than she did before.

“A-are we done then?” Wheein asked, eyes darting between me and Byulyi.

Byulyi shook her head sadly. “I am afraid I cannot send you back until I fully connect with Yongsun. I have been dishonest, I apologize,” she paused to fidget with her cuff, “but it takes a great deal of energy to transport two humans across space and time.

I stood, clenching and unclenching my fists. A part of me was angry at the fact that we had unknowingly been slaved to do Byulyi’s bidding in spite of the “choice” she had given us in the beginning. A part of me...was excited for the next adventure. Maybe even out of fear for my reality.

In spite of everything, I could not help the way insecurity clenched at my throat at the thought of all of this ending. Wheein and I...what would happen to us? Would I be able to keep my promise and take care of her in our own reality? Every time I remembered who I really was, my demons seemed to claw back with a vengeance. Wheein gripped her arm tight and bit her lip—most likely just as anxious as I was.

“I...I am...terribly sorry,” Byulyi said, bowing deeply at the waist. “I had not meant to trap you here. I simply...did not know. I will not ask that you forgive me right away, but, please, I still need your help.” She lifted her head and flicked her gaze between the two of us. “Though the new connections have a lot of potential, they are not as strong or stable as established relationships. I do not detect any anomalies in any of the connections, but each one is still new and fresh. They need more time to develop before I can feel a stronger flow of energy from them, but if we can perhaps….”

“If we make a few more new connections, then we can find Yongsun and go home?” Wheein asked. Her eyes was full of uncertainty when she glanced over, and I thought maybe, just maybe, she might have felt the same way. We’ll talk about this, I tried to say through a squeeze of her hand. We had to. I didn’t want to be away from her, didn’t want to have these conversations in my head. Not anymore.

“Correct,” Byulyi said, flinching at her own commanding tone. “I-I...my deepest apologies once again, but we must get going.”

I looked at Wheein, then back at Byulyi. I probably should’ve been more pissed off than I was then, but with Wheein by my side, it was hard to stay mad at anything. Nothing else seemed to matter.

With the sweep of an arm, Byulyi led us into the red hallway. She walked a few steps ahead of us while Wheein and I followed with our hands entwined. At the very end of the hall, there was a perpendicular hallway we’d somehow never noticed before. “I am always building and rebuilding this realm to adjust to the worlds.” Byulyi explained as we turned the corner. “Doors come and go in ways I cannot even fathom.”

“Is that what happened with the parallel universe?” Wheein asked. “Two doors just kind of mushed together?”

Byulyi stopped for a moment with a raise of her brow. “It is curious,” she said, rubbing a finger across the point of her chin. “I did not feel the presence of another pair until after I felt Hyejin’s energy melding into that world. It is possible that when Wheein entered through the door, she unknowingly split that reality into two.”

“What? Why couldn’t I just have gone into Hyejin’s world?”

Byulyi bowed slightly. “I do not know. Perhaps your energies somehow refused to connect, and thus a new reality was created when Wheein’s presence changed the history of your counterparts. Again, this is pure speculation. This was truly an anomaly.”

“Do you know if everything happens the same way at the end?” I asked.

Byulyi smiled apologetically. “That is a deeply philosophical inquiry, Hyejin. I cannot help you with that. Some might believe that under the same circumstances and influences, the outcomes of our actions will conclude the same way.”

“The past determining the future,” Wheein added. “I remember that from some video I watched. I don’t really remember what everything is called because it gets kind of complicated, but it’s like...we think we can change things, but really, everything leads up to the same exact moment so maybe we can’t. So even though I kind of intruded on that world, it didn’t change the fact that Yongsun-unnie would still have gone to Chuncheon, or that Byulyi-unnie was crazy about Yongsun-unnie. So in the end, even though our stories are a little bit different, Hyejinie, they probably both ended up living somewhere in a remote cabin or something.”

I raised a brow. “You watch the strangest things.”

“I have a lot of time between auditions,” Wheein replied with a shrug.

Byulyi nodded down the hall and gestured for us to continue. We watched her back march down the hall for a moment, then, with a squeeze of Wheein’s hand, I hurried along after her.

Brushing my arm against hers, I sighed and said, “You’re probably right. I just can’t help but worry a little bit.”

Wheein cocked her head. “About Byulyi and Yongsun unnie?”

“If it eases your mind,” Byulyi said without turning, “I can feel the energy from the last timeline. Though I cannot see where they are, I can tell you that they are alive.”

I nodded, though I knew Master Spirit Byulyi was too preoccupied to see. “I guess that’s enough.”

“Knowing us,” Wheein nudged me in the shoulder with her own, “we aren’t going to let anything happen to the three of them. Sooin is going to grow up with four awesome moms!”

“Six if you count Wannie and Joohyun,” I laughed.

“Ah, we have arrived.”

Byulyi stopped, and the two of us bumped into her back with a soft grunt. She mumbled an apology and stood aside.

“Woah, it’s huge!” Wheein cried.

I blinked and turned to look up at the heavy-looking steel door, framed by white bolts. Its face was a deep, metallic pink, and at its center, carefully stenciled in with white spray paint, was an exclamation mark. A large red button hung off the side of the door, encased in a clear, curved shell. With a wave of Byulyi’s hand, the case snapped open.

Then she turned to us and bowed once more. “I regret that I have not been much help to you. But please rest assured that in spite of not knowing where you are nor what you are doing behind these doors, I will always be watching to retrieve your souls should you ever be in danger. Alas, I hope that it does not come to that.”

I punched Byulyi in the shoulder, and smirked. “You better be looking for Yongsun while we’re gone. No excuses. I gotta meet her.”

“O-of course!” Byulyi said. She threw an arm around my shoulders and gave me a little half hug, but when the awkwardness persisted, she quickly pulled back and defaulted to bowing. Thankfully, Wheein stepped in, reached around Byulyi’s waist with both arms, and engulfed her in a big hug. I stood behind her with a ready frown and a cocked brow.

“This is from both of us,” Wheein muttered into Byul’s crisp, white shirt. “We both missed you, even if Hyejinie would never say it out loud.” She stepped back with a large grin and a thumbs up. “But you better find Yongsun, or I’ll let Hyejin kick your butt, ‘cause we gotta go on our honeymoon and stuff.”

I choked on my own saliva at those words pouring out of Wheein’s mouth like it was the easiest, most obvious thing to say. But before I could respond, Wheein lept over to the red button, and slammed her palm down.

The pink, metal door slid and disappeared into the wall as a wave of white smoke billowed out. I felt a pair of soft lips on my cheek just before I blacked out.

\--

I awoke alone in the pitch darkness. I was warm and comfortable, and I would've stayed there awhile longer had it not become harder and harder to breathe. My arms pushed back against the darkness, and found it soft, but heavy. My fingers searched for air, as the panic grew. With a final cry, I threw my palms against the dark, and pressed and flailed and gasped until the air filled my lungs and light filled my eyes.

I sat up, pulse racing, eyes squeezed shut against the blinding light as I moulded the fabric beneath my hands. The darkness was only a heavy blanket, I realized, but goddamn I was buried deep.

The light was blinding even behind my eyelids, and it took some time for me to adjust, and when it did…fuck, I can still remember the first time I took in the light above me.

Stars.

A billion fucking stars. Maybe even a hundred billion.

Tiny glowing dots in the sky, so plentiful that it lit up every inch of the sky above me. It was breathtaking and unlike anything I’d ever seen—no clouds, no pollution, nothing to get in the way of every single orb from shining through.

I looked around, and everything was dusted with the yellow glow of starlight. There was nothing on earth like it.

Dark shapes and gold knobs were scattered around my room. All I could make out then was a bookcase to my left, and a nightstand to my right. I folded my thick covers forward and climbed out of bed (mostly because it was getting really warm in there). Thick, plush carpet with a purple hue embraced my bare feet at one moment, and the cold metal grating surprised me at the next.

I wandered around with arms outstretched, as if in a dream. My room seemed to float under the ethereal sky.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a decompressing door (one of those noises you hear in sci-fi movies with big ships), and I quickly dove back under the sheets. I wasn't sure what compelled me to do that, but I followed my instincts.

I dug deep under my covers and pretended to be as dead asleep as I could. Two steps clanked across the metal then disappeared into the carpet.

My heart was practically beating out of my chest when a shadowy figure blocked out the light of the stars behind my eyes. A hand tugged down my sheets roughly, and shook me by the shoulders.

“Wake up.”

The voice was familiar, and by now not surprising, but the context is always a little jarring at first.

“Wake up!”

(By now, I think I know Byulyi pretty well. Each version had been cut from the gentle Master Spirit’s cloth. Yeah, some were more tolerable than others, but they were never bad people. They would, at least, never hurt anyone. On purpose. Even the hardened soldier had a heavy backstory to tell...but this one…

I knew right away, even in the dark, that this wasn't Byulyi. This was not Byulyi, dear reader. Not at the beginning.)

This one had the patience of a misanthropic warden as she shook me awake. I stirred and stretched for good measure, my heart beating fast. Under the starlight, all I could see was her giant fucking silk periwinkle ascot.

“Byul?” I tried.

“That's Master Yul to you,” came the gruff reply. “Prophets above, don’t think I’ll be lenient with you just because we’ve known each other for so long. And take off that stupid dress thing. I don't know why you insist on wearing it when you know I'm supposed to see you every night.” She crossed her arms, her tone more than a little exasperated as she glared at me through her bangs.

She had short hair this time, with messy bangs to somehow match her painstakingly ironed, yet ominously glowing, white suit. There was something decidedly more masculine about her this time, but a careful look told me there was something feminine about her too.

She took off her jacket and hung it on the back of my chair as she continued to speak. “Honestly, I had the worst day today. I am really in no mood for your games today, Hyejin.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She rolled her eyes. “And I don't wish to discuss this yet again. You know I would much rather have you stay on as my Handmaiden, but, well, your sins got you here. You're a Provider now—it’s time you know your place.”

“I—”

Her voice cut in firmly: “No more talking.” She began to fiddle with her belt. My eyes could not have grown wider. This Byul--she was packing. Something real big.

I looked over her once more. Her smooth, slim neck, and slender hands glowed ominously against her white shirt and pants. That's when the dread began to sit in. I realized, as she undid her belt, what she was here to do.

“Wait!” I cried, waving my arms around as fast as I could. “Whatever you're thinking of doing--stop it!”

She stared at me, darkness falling across her face as she stepped closer.

“I don't know what is happening, but—”

“No. More. Talking. Now.”

Her shadow loomed in as she the bed squeaked in protest. She kept her limbs far apart, as if she wanted to cover my body with hers, but couldn't stand the thought of actually touching me. She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned in. My hand must've had a mind of its own when it shot up and covered her mouth with its palm.

“Ahn. Hye. Jin,” She mumbled emphatically into my hand.

“I said stop!” I replied calmly but firmly in spite of my beating heart. The look in her eye was scaring the shit out of me, and I didn't want to piss her off, but I sure as hell didn't want to participate in whatever the fuck this wasI lowered my hand awkwardly, but kept them ready, fists on my chest, just in case an uppercut was in order.

She rolled her eyes again. “I know it’s awkward now, but I’m sure you’ll get used to it,” a flicker of emotion passed through for the briefest moment before that pained look of suppressed frustration returned. “Just pretend I’m the little priestess you sent to the Red Room with that wild, wicked side that you're holding out on.”

“What? I—” I mumbled, shuffling backwards as she pushed closer.

“No more excuses, Hyejin. We’re going to do this whether you like it or not.”

“No—”

“Not. A. Word.”

“Byul—”

She pressed a hand against my mouth, murder in her eyes as she whispered, “I’m the Master of this colony. You are a Provider. I want to feel good, so you need to shut up, do your job, and let me get on with it. Don't make me hurt you, dammit!”

She was quickly losing the little patience she had. But even the intimidation and the extra weight and volume in her voice couldn’t hide her nerves. As determined as she seemed to get into my panties, she was also reluctant to do things properly. If I wasn't so freaked out, I might’ve felt sorry for the way her shaky and slightly clammy hands tried to touched my chest like she'd never touched another person's skin in her life.

She might've been an awkward fool, but I was still scared shitless beyond anything else. My heart was loud in my ears as I watched the way her arms stretched the fabric of her white shirt as she flexed, and I—scrawny as hell in this world—dreaded the confrontation with every passing moment.

This damn Yul character wasn't anything like Byulyi. The way his hands cold hands hung lifeless above me as he ordered me to touch myself, the way they tugged at my dress, the way they matched his cold, lifeless eyes.

“You will submit today,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Then his shadow disappeared, but the air was just as stifling. I could feel his oppressive presence off to the side, could feel his eyes glaring at me like I was a giant germ from where I lay. “Take off your dress,” he commanded. A rustle—he turned away, suddenly shy, as if this was the most intrusive thing he’d done so far.

I knew this could go to shit in so many ways. I could go along with whatever this prick wanted and risk what’s left of my mental health, or...I could run away. Somehow. I thought up a hundred scenarios as my shaking hands reached for the hem of my dress as slow as I could. But when Yul unzipped his pants...my heart dropped to my stomach and my thoughts came to a screeching halt.

Disclaimer: I have not seen many penises in my life. And, yeah, I’m definitely not a connoisseur, but I know enough about the human anatomy to know that they were not supposed to look like that.

I don’t even know where to begin. The whole set-up was just weird. It wasn't just a simple strap-on, which was what I’d assumed when I saw the not-so-feminine bulge between those feminine legs. The thing was huge, and made of some sort of translucent synthetic skin material. Inside it, these bars of blue-white light pulsed in time with his —surprisingly erratic—heartbeat. When he pulled down his pants a little more, I saw what looked like a silver chastity belt with one of those old keyholes.

I didn't think too much of it then. Not when dread gripped me so tightly I couldn't move.

He climbed up over me and straddled me with his long body. The light inside the thing convulsed frantically from the base to the tip. Blood thumped in my ears. My skin pricked. My breath intensified.

I didn’t know what to do. All I knew was that the thought of it inside me...well, let’s just say that if it was all up to me, I would've pushed him off my bed and punched him in the face.

So I did.

As soon as he came close, I screamed with my eyes wide open and slugged him right across the jaw. Adrenaline sent my heart racing to oblivion and back. And when Yul touched the blood from his lips, I felt invulnerable. Powerful.

Until he looked at me, eyes clawing at me like a caged predator.

“Are you fucking crazy? How...how dare you?” He began in a whisper, quickly escalating until drops of blood began to fly onto my sheets. “How fucking dare you? Who the fuck do you think you fucking are, Ahn Hyejin? Do you...do you even know what you just did? Do you th-think that just because we were friends that I’d let you do whatever you fucking want?”

He grabbed me by the collar of my dress, and dragged me up to meet his flaming eyes. I could feel his breath heaving into my lips, and god, I was fucking scared. I was practically shitting myself when I remembered the way Byulyi looked when she held Yongsun at gunpoint in the first world. She didn’t shoot her, but I couldn’t forget the dead look in her eyes that told me she was capable of killing the love of her life in cold blood. The way this Yul looked now was a mirror image—all I could hear was my own pulse beating like drums.

I held my hands up. “L-look—”

He raised his fist, and I flinched, all my excuses disappearing into the pit of my stomach as I ducked.

His whole body seemed to be screaming murderous. The way the periwinkle silk caught the light made it seem grey, though the white of his suit was as stark as death. It must've been the colour of my face when he tightened his grip around my dress, and said, in a low animalistic growl, “You fucked up, Hyejin. And I'm going to make sure you spend the rest of your life atoning for your sins in this fucking dome.”

Then I was alone. Left on the bed, hand to my heart as the air rushed in and tried to suffocate me. My heart raced in my ears.

It took me a long time to process what happened, to feel the weight of it. I fell back, the stars spinning before my eyes, trying to figure out how closely I'd brushed against death.

I watched the sunrise that night with my arms splayed on either side. I must've blinked for the first time when the sun poked its massive head out of the horizon. I don't remember much of dawn, though it must've been beautiful. All I thought about was the last time I had seen a sunset, the one where I watched the red rays play with Wheein's hair in the orange Pony. It was so simple then.

I missed her so much. We’d been through so much, and to be separated again so soon was just...

I rolled out of bed with a groan. Fuck the sun was bright.

I looked outside, toward the green fields stretching for miles around my space, and into the giant ball of flame above. It seemed to swallow the sky. I looked on, transfixed. For a moment, I wanted to forget everything and let the flames swallow me whole. Maybe it would take me out of this fucked up world. I must’ve stood there for who-the-fuck-knows-how-long before I realized that it didn’t hurt. I stared directly at those snaking tendrils across the blue, and it didn’t hurt at all.

I thought about my angel then, and her dazzling smile. I smiled to myself when I realized that it didn't hurt at all. We were going to see each other. Fuck Yul. There was nothing he could do to keep me from my Wheein. Nothing. You can imprison my body, I thought through clenched fists, but you can't do shit to my spirit.

I stood straighter then.

Yul would be back tonight—I knew that much. And I was going to deal with it then. For now, under the burning red sun, I was going to make the best of it.

I marched to the edge of the room, where one steel wall stood tall. I ran my fingers around the twisted steel patterns, across the massive door, until my fingertips trailed onto the nearly invisible glass. The glass stretched all around the room in a perfect circle, arching up and coming down—a nearly perfect dome. Maybe more like one of those science lab jars you see in old movies. The kind that would hold a single rose in a dark, decrepit castle.

A thorough search told me there were no other exits. Believe me, I looked. A bright purple circular pattern, embedded in the metal ring around my room, opened up to reveal a staircase, which led to a modest bathroom below. It was a square room, no windows. Just eerily white tiles, a white clawfoot tub with little, golden paws, a white sink, a white toilet, a full-length mirror, a hook with a white robe hanging off of it.

I shivered and got out of there.

Other than the secret bathroom, there were no other doors or secret passageways other than the main door. But that behemoth could probably withstand a nuclear bomb. I threw myself to the floor and sighed. The prison could be worst.

As I sat on the plush carpet, back against the frame of my bed, tears began to fall. They caught me completely by surprise—I hadn't realized that I'd been cursing the universe so hard that my emotions had to physically manifest itself. Strangely, I didn't feel as angry as my head made me believe. Yes, the universe has been cruel. I thought the last door would be the death of me, but it turned out to be paradise despite everything. This time...this time, I wasn't afraid to hope.

But really, I guess I just missed Wheein. So much. Being ripped from her side just as I had her in my arms was a whole different level of torture.

At the same time, there was a lot to think about. A lot of potential questions our new relationship needed to ask. Perhaps it was a blessing that I had a lot of time to think about things in that room. A lot of time.

In fact, that room was all I knew about this world. I couldn’t tell you how long Wheein and I were in there, but when your only company was the sun, the moon, the stars, and a rude bastard with no social skills, it felt like a very, very long time. I didn't even get to see Wheein, but I knew she was around. I don't know how, but I did. Partly because I had a better understanding of how doors work now, partly because...I felt it. It was like my heart had come to an understanding that she was here. Kind of like the way you are so certain that your nose is on your face that you would rarely touch it to make sure it’s there. As much as I missed her, and as sad as I was to be away from her, the feeling put my heart at ease.

If it wasn’t for this feeling, I don’t know how I would’ve survived the long hours in that room by myself.

Thankfully, there was a modest bookshelf to help me pass the time. Extremely worn copies of old English novels I could not read made up one side of the shelf, while brand-new, untouched, yet somehow worn-looking encyclopedias and textbooks of equal size and varying shades of somber blue filled up the rest of the space. I had a desk beside the shelf: a heavy wooden one with a fancy high-backed, green-cushioned wooden chair to match. It was so luxurious that I pictured myself inside one of those old English novels. Like a mournful lover. spending her day staring out the window waiting for her love. Or something like that. (I admit, I’ve never read any of those cheesy old romances, but Wheein did make me sit through a couple of those movies). I sat in that chair and stared out the window to see if it was as much fun as movies made it seem, but, of course, nobody came. I would’ve done anything to see Wheein coming up over the grassy hills. A bitter disappointment to say the least.

The desk didn’t have much inside its drawers. A couple of dustballs, a leather notebook, and a very fancy pen. I weighed the pen in my hand, and ran a thumb over the glass encasing. From the nib, a green light burst forward—I yelped and shot backwards. Before I knew it, my chair hit the floor and I found myself sprawled across the carpet. God, that hurt. I would’ve laughed had I not looked up to see a green hologram beaming out of my pen.

“What the fuck?” I murmured out loud. “Holy shit.”

I stood up slowly, holding the back of my head to ease the slight thumping. Standing toe to toe before me, was...me. In perfect likeness, right down to the cotton dress hanging loosely from my frame.

I ran a hand in front of her face. She didn’t react. My heart thudded as I ran a hand through her shoulder and felt the air through my fingers.

Her eyes met mine.

She opened her mouth.

I inched forward.

“July 18th, 3217—”

“Holy fuck!” I yelped, throwing myself onto the bed. I watched in awe as my green self brightened. Her colours flickered to life, one section at a time--first her clothes, then her hair, then her skin.

She continued, pacing furiously across my carpet. “This is Ahn Hyejin. Day one in the Provider’s Quarters. The situation is...abysmal,” she stopped, glared hard at the ground, and clenched her fists, “They must’ve taken Whee—the High Priestess to the Red Room. Master Yul is beyond reason. Fifteen years of friendship. Worthless. Worthless!”

She fell to her knees, saying nothing for a long time. Curiously, I shuffled closer to her.

“I couldn’t save her,” she mumbled, rubbing silent tears across her cheeks. “She must be...so lonely. To think that our love could lead to this...It is just as I had predicted, but I...I’m...I miss her.” Moments later, she stood. Her body whipped around and ran right through mine as she continued to pace. I shivered. “I hope to be able to talk some sense into Master Yul and resume my life by Wheein’s side. I cannot imagine the rest of my life prisoner, though I would gladly spend my life here if it means that my love can be free. They try to trap my body, but I fear that they will soon trap my soul. I cannot abide by the damn ritual, and I cannot imagine being…”

She threw her hands up, took a deep breath, and continued, “Master Yul...Yul… I may have been a servant, but he is my friend. I believe in him. He is going to be the one to change the backwards way of the Colony”—she groaned, and ran a hand through her short blonde hair—”He is too spoiled, and too naive. He cannot understand what Wheein and I have. I hope I can get through to him. I have been putting off his advances during the ritual, but I know he cannot be sated for long. I know how that thing affects him.”

The hologram blinked off. I stared at the pen for a while, and bent down to retrieve it. Just as I picked it up, without warning, it flared to life once more. I yelped and dropped the pen.

I appeared again, this time in a sitting position with my arms wrapped around my knees. “July 19th, 3217,” I said with a heavy sigh. “I miss my Wheein deeply, and I hope that she will forgive me. I confronted Master Yul once more, but he insisted on the ritual. We argued heatedly, but I believe he tried to be as kind as he could. He did not hurt me, yet he does not seem to understand even the most basic premises of intimacy.” She stood, straightened out her dress. She seemed to be leaning on something, the desk perhaps, but the hologram did not show it.

“It fascinates and gladdens me,” she said, crossing her arms, “to see Yul’s truer side. He is much unlike those before him, even in times of intimacy—so I’ve heard. He is the chosen one, yet a part of him resists the power bestowed upon him. He has so much potential to be the leader we are looking for, perhaps even the one to take us out of these dark times. But he is scared. The puppet masters can be cruel, but I hope he will find it in himself to fight back. Ah, but I shall not go into that now. Tomorrow, Yul will begin the search for a new Handmaiden. Thankfully, I had the foresight to initiate my plan just before I was arrested… I am almost completely sure this will change things. My contact on Colony 64 had assured me as much. And though I know Yul is as disappointed with me as I am with him, I wish he could see that, as his faithful friend and loyal servant, I only want what is best for him and the colony. Even if, at times, I can be swept away by love just as any other simple fools might. Anyway, I simply hope he finds what he is looking for.”

The hologram blinked off. I sat still for a moment, awaiting the next one. I held the pen in my hand, determined not to scream when anything happens. Several pauses later, a green square was projected out of the pen. “JULY 20th, 3217: WOULD YOU LIKE TO RECORD A NEW ENTRY?”

I stared at the message for a long time, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into. The timing, as usual, was impeccable. I clicked off the pen, lifted the chair from the floor, and threw myself into it.

“Holy fuck,” I mumbled at the pen. It laid innocuously on my desk beside the notebook, as if it hadn’t seen some pretty crazy shit. My hand rested across my forehead, my whole being still stuck in disbelief. The journal, beautiful as it was, looked back and me like a neglected puppy, a useless relic it seems in a world so advanced. With technology like that, why the fuck would anyone need a journal, I wondered as I dusted my fingertips over the leather cover.

In an instant, I understood.

Within its yellowed pages weren’t words. They weren’t lovesick songs for Wheein, or memories of self-doubt. They were reflections—dozens of them—of who I was, etched by the careful hands of another. I smiled as I smoothed out the wrinkles across my face across the page. In one, I was drawn naked from the shoulders up, biting my lips as if I was trying to hide a smile. In another, it was my back, each line bold and strong, while each curve had an almost imperceptible softness to it. God, I’d never seen myself look so beautiful. In all of these, I recognized the lovingly sculpted shadows and the pure, open joy, no matter how loud or how quiet, in each expression.

There was only one person who could capture that disgustingly lovesick face of mine, and I was mad as hell that the artist didn’t leave me with a single self-portrait. My thumb naturally drew toward Wheein’s signature on every page. It was different than the one I knew, but I knew it was her nonetheless.

I rifled through my bookshelves in search of more diary entries. I didn't know what I was looking for, and I wasn't hopeful, but a closer look brought a victorious grin to my face. Between the worn leather and the new, I found a crystal tablet. I peeled it off the shelf and ran a hand over the engraving, reading PRODUCER in Hanja. Below the delicate lines and curves of each character were the familiar lines of Hangeul. Except...I couldn't read it at all. I read the Hanja easily enough, but no matter how long I stared and stared I couldn’t make sense of the once familiar lines of Hangeul. Korean flowed through my thoughts and through my lips, so why couldn't I read it? (I’d never succeeded learning Hanja when I was in school. While other kids were building works of art in each word, I fell to the side, as I did with mostly everything else, and struggled to put the pieces together.)

Hastily, I placed the tablet down and reached for the pen and notebook. I scrawled a couple of lines to see if the pen had ink, and breathed a sigh of relief when the blank ink flowed across an empty page. I pressed the tip of my pen into the paper.

But no words came out.

I couldn't even spell my own name.

I thought as hard as I could, but all I produced were simple Chinese characters. The basics: mountain, day, moon, person, and most of the first ten numbers (I could not recall the word for ‘nine’ no matter how many times I said it in my head).

I leaned back in my chair and ran a hand down my face.

I glared at the crystal tablet like it was the reason I was illiterate, and slammed a hand over the word Provider.

Perhaps I should not have been as surprised as I was when a beam of light shot out of the surface at an angle. But I was. I yelped and scrambled back and nearly fell out of my chair when I pushed back in surprise once more.

My jaw dropped when I followed the line of light and watched it morph into the perfect image of the High Priestess. My own sweet Wheein. Standing in my room, drowned in layers of too-big velvet robes. Smiling.

I leapt out of my chair to touch her. I knew what she was, and I knew I shouldn't have been surprised, but in that moment...I could not tell you how my heart dropped, how excruciating it was, when my hand dove through the light and caught nothing but air.

I fell to my knees, and looked up at my smiling angel. She was like a porcelain statue made of stardust. Untouchable, unreal—mine, but beyond the touch of my fingertips.

She said nothing for a while, simply standing there with her mouth pulled tight. Her robes rose and fell—the only sign of life. She breathed deeply, adjusted her positioning, and unravelled the scroll on her hand.

“Provider Number Zero Five Three. Ahn Hyejin.” My breath caught at the way she nearly stumbled over my name, her first syllable a soft, nearly imperceptible staccato. “You are here to serve out your sentence for your crimes against the Colony. By the Prophet Tiresias, I hereby declare that you must remain until your debt is repaid to the Holy Master and the Prophet. May he forgive your sins.”

She continued to read off the rules and duties of a Provider, her eyes hard and her voice unwavering. God, I couldn't stand listening to all the shit Wheein was telling me to do in order to serve the master and all that. It was disgusting, these so-called traditions. And, fuck, was it hard to hear coming from Wheein’s mouth, but I'd missed the sound of her voice so much that I couldn't stop. Instead, I tried to focus on her expressions and the familiar curves of her features.

Dear reader, to spare you from most of the realities of this world, all I will say is...submission. Rules #1-17: submit yourself to will of the Master. Submit, submit, submit.

I rolled this word around in my head, stretching and peeling back its layers. It's atrocious, isn't it? Why do I have to submit to that prick? How could women’s rights be so far behind when we were so far into the future. But the more I thought about it, the more I understood the word and the more I shook my fists at all the goddamn universes.

The truth is, whether we like it or not, we submit every day. When it's not some periwinkle bastard, it's your friends, parents, and lover. Once upon a time I probably would've submitted to anything if I thought they could make me better. If they could make me Hwasa. How fucking easy is it to submit? We submit to ideas, to knowledge, and we perpetuate it to make it fit neatly inside the boxes of our lives. Because we submit, we can say that Pluto is not a planet any longer, and we know that one plus one will always be two. Because I submitted, I allowed myself to believe that I was a broken girl. That I had no place in this godforsaken world.

So what can Yul do to hurt me? I've carried a thousand tons of paper mâché on my back, made to believe they would someday turn into wings and take me through the sun itself. Yul’s got nothing on that.

That night, as I laid listening to Wheein’s voice like song, I was put to the test.

As soon as I heard the door breathe, I felt every hair on my body stand on end. The metal sounded like hell to my ears, and the footsteps like hellfire waiting to receive me. I laid still, pretended to sleep with my body splayed on top of my sheets, Wheein’s hologram by my bed, glowing white beneath the moonlight.

A chair pushed its way through the carpet, followed by a soft exhale and the squeak of leather.

“Hyejin.” Wheein faded as two hands pulled the tablet away from my pillow. I would've been angry had I not been so surprised. Yul’s voice was strangely soft. With those two syllables, I looked up and saw Moon Byulyi for the first time since the moment I laid eyes on her. It was easy, and perhaps safer, to forget that beneath Yul had a deeper layer. A warm and familiar one that I've called a friend so many times.

I said nothing, and though I held his eyes, I did not move.

He cleared his throat. “Though this new situation has been hard on both of us,” he said calmly, “you are still my friend.” If he felt any remorse at all, his tone gave no indication. He went on, legs spread, body leaning back in the chair like a king: “As my friend, you must understand the pressure I am under.”

“I'm not submitting,” I said firmly.

His eyebrows furrowed. “I am saying this kindly,” he said through gritted teeth. “You will comply with the ritual today.”

I pushed myself up to a sitting position. “No.”

He stood slowly, unravelling his full height (invisible devil horns and all.) “I have given you countless concessions. I have shown more mercy than it is proprietary as your friend.” His voice picked up, louder and louder. My eyes darted to his white-knuckled fists, and I began to back away as slowly as I could.“You. Will. Submit.”

He took a step closer, and my hands flew up to protect myself. I glared at him as hard as I could under the fog of fear. “I’m not afraid of a powerless coward like you,” I whispered to myself, half hoping he didn't catch it.

But he sure as hell did.

His eyes widened, flashing with anger. I hid behind my hands as I embraced the end of my life. I mentally wrote a letter, just as I had done when I leapt out of that helicopter in the first universe.

Dear Hyejin: sorry for killing you. But it was probably for the best.

Dear Yul: you're an asshole.

Dear Yongsun: I wish I could've met you. It probably would've helped. Are you pretty in this world too?

Dear Wheein: my sweet angel. I hated being away from you so soon. I love you so much, and I wish I could've told you sooner so I could tell you every day. Three times a day. Fifteen times a day. You made my whole pathetic life better. You made me better, and I never thanked you for that. I—

I opened my eyes and peered through my splayed fingers. Minutes had passed and I was still alive. Yul hadn't moved. He simply stared at me, the anger drained from his eyes. His fists were clenched, his shoulders slumped. Where the tyrant had stood minutes before...now stood a shattered man.

“You’re right,” he whispered.

I kept quiet. He wasn't confessing this to me. He threw himself into the chair like a heavy rag doll and draped a hand over his eyes. “You’re right,” he repeated. “I’m powerless. I am. My crown is a formality, but the strings around my limbs are...pure titanium.” He shook his head with a mirthless chuckle. “Even you,” he gestured, “a prisoner. Think I'm weak just like everyone else.”

Yeah, but you're scary as fuck, I didn't say. As deflated as he was, I didn't want to give him ideas.

“Goddamit!” He cried, shooting out of his seat to give the chair a kick that sent it crashing into the carpet. He lowered his head, shoved his hands in his pockets. “I can’t do anything right.”

He met my eyes with a challenge. “You think I am a--what do the ancients call it? A fuck-up? You think I am a fuck-up, do you not? You thought the Prophet made a mistake when they put me in this position, did you not?”

I hadn't expected to hit such a sore spot. Just yesterday, he was my worst nightmare, with eyes as cold as evil. Those tragic eyes challenging me to dam up his insecurities with my arms were unrecognizable.

My mind flashed to the recording. “You’re not a fuck-up,” I said carefully, gripping my sheets for a false sense of security. “You’re...better than you think you are.” The words were acrid, but my old self believed them, and a part of me hoped that If I could believe them, then maybe he would too.

He scoffed, and pushed his hair back. When he stepped closer to me, I automatically flinched backwards toward the headboard. He only had to reach out his hand for my fist to fly up. “You really think I’m better than what this position needs me to be?” He said bitterly, and retracted his hand as if it pained him to reach out any further. “I can only be what they made me. Stop resisting, Hyejin.”

“Success,” I said as evenly as I could, scrambling off the bed as he kneeled onto it, “isn’t achieved by taking the easiest way out.”

The stars cast an ominous shadow under his eyes, so that his irises seemed to glow ferociously under the moonlight. He stood up slowly, like a giant awakening. I held my hands out defensively and repeated, “You’re better than this.”

“Don’t pretend to know what it’s like,” he spat, circling around the bed. I hopped back onto the mattress, and stood with my arms out like a mad warrior.

“It’s not you,” I said desperately, “it’s that thing.”

“You dare insult the Blue Power?” He pounced onto the bed, and I leapt off in perfect time. My heart pounded. One of us had to give up, and he’d already given in twice. I let the words flow through me, as I raised my fists to my eyes, ready to fight.

“It doesn’t define you!” I cried.

“He who wears the living stone sits atop the golden throne,” he mumbled the syllables like a sacred incantation, and leapt off the bed. I ducked under his sweeping arms, fell forward onto my knees, scrambled up with my hands, crawling back onto the bed.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said.

He unzipped his pants like a man possessed.

“Didn’t anyone teach you you should only do this with the one you love?” The words came out, desperate and demanding, rushed with fear as I hid beside the bed.

Then, there was only silence.

I gripped the edge of my mattress, and peeked out. The shadowy figure stopped. All I could see was the faint blue pulsing and a dust of starlight in his hair. I felt his eyes on me long before I could see it. My heart was going crazy by the time he stepped into the moonlight again, and he, in his white suit, was washed in the light. In a really twisted turn of events, he looked like an angel then, his clothes and his skin all fading into the moonbeams. He sat down on the bed, his back toward me to catch the shadows once more.

“Love.” He spat the word out like bile. “It’s a weakness. A flaw of femininity. A curse to reason. The way you replayed Wheein’s image over and over as she recited the very rules that keep you apart...it’s disgusting. I don’t understand it. You’re strong enough to resist me, and yet you’re so weak.”

God, Yul lived in a fucked up world.

“Have you...never been in love?”

Yul turned to appraise me with furrowed brows. “You say some very strange things sometimes. It's very curious considering you can’t read, so I can't even blame the ancients for putting the ideas in your head.” I glowered to no effect. “Maybe love makes you a fool. Come, Hyejin. I'm tired of these games. Just submit.”

I stood my ground. “Don't you want to feel good?”

He rolled his eyes. “That is why I'm asking you—”

“I mean really feel good. You are not attracted to me, so it's really not the same.”

He groaned and pushed his hair back once more in frustration. “You’re an attractive woman, Hyejin. You will do.”

He gestured for me to join him on the bed with a lazy sweep of his arm. I shook my head. “Have you ever looked at a woman and found yourself so entranced by her that you can't talk?” I continued, much to his visible annoyance. “Whenever I see Wheein, my heart races and I feel so happy just being beside her because she makes me feel like a better person. I'd do anything to see her smile. You must've felt the butterflies and the knots in your stomach and shit at some point.”

He shot up, his shadow stretching and falling over me like a tower. “You know full well,” he roared, “that I—I…” His hand shoved through his hair once more, harder this time. His face contorted. (I thought maybe—no, I could've sworn—the bastard was even blushing!)

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't you?”

“No,” he said. His fists clenched. “No...Don’t be an idiot...ungh...no...no...that's not...that's not what it is.”

Two hands clasped either side of his head, and a pained cry escaped his lips. I couldn't make out a thing he was saying amidst the rustle of his suit and the sudden buzz of his “Blue Power”. His knees buckled, and he fell to his knees.

Tentatively, I crept closer to where he had fallen on all fours. He said nothing as he hung his head between his arms.

“A-are you okay?” I asked. I reached out, then drew back—the man was crazy, and I didn't want to set anything off by touching him. He looked up at me with those sad, pathetic eyes again, his face glowing with a sheen of cold sweat. “What the fuck is happening?” I whispered into the stricken darkness.

He took several deep breaths, eyes blazing like wild stars.

“I'm fine,” he said through grit teeth, “It’s just the Blue—I'll...take care of myself. Tomorrow, Hyejin. Tomorrow.”

I felt the chill of his words long after he left. I dreaded sleeping because I so dreaded waking up to see the sun. I dreaded the clack of breakfast sliding in from the slot, spending the day alone with my thoughts and memories, and, most of all, going through all of this. Again and again. How long can I keep refusing? How long can he keep pushing.

I watched the stars, the moon, and eventually the sun, dreaming up ways to fight him off. I know he has mercy. My diary said that he was better than all those before him or whatever, and I guess I could believe it. He had some kind of heart, fucked up as it was, but when the “Blue Power” took over… Whatever that was, it didn’t seem good. It...transformed him. Tonight, miraculously, he resisted it, but what’s the likelihood of lightning striking twice?

I wanted to tear the thing off with my bare hands, regardless of the consequences.

By the time three meal trays came and went, I was practically swimming in my own cold sweat as I ran lines and choreographed fights in my head.

Little did I expect to see Yul come stumbling in with his shirt untucked, face pink, and eyes glazed. He looked at me like I was a ghost, then fell forward and hit the carpet face-first. From where I sat cross-legged on the bed, I could smell the familiar stench of beer and see the tips of his mussed hair.

All I could do was stare.

Now, dear reader, I have to pause my story for a moment. It was such a bizarre twist of events that it would only make sense to you if I went back and retold this story from the pieces of Wheein’s perspective. I wish I knew the full story. Maybe I would’ve been nicer to him (or not). Either way, the two of us, though we existed in the same dimension, lived in two very different worlds.

We later spent hours—days upon weeks upon months—obsessing, trying to connect the dots. We still talk about it once in awhile, but even then, I don’t think I could ever get all the fragments of this universe.

After all, how can we experience what we'll never experience? 

————

On the first day, Wheein woke up in a red room.

Everything was doused in shades of red, from the padded walls to the glass floors hinting at the abyss below. It was a small room—just a bed and a toilet behind a half wall—as red as a bleeding vagina. On one wall was a large caduceus the colour of ox blood.

And her, drowning in several layers of red, white, and gold draperies, was the only living colour in the room. The red of her robe dragged across the red floors, bleeding so imperceptibly into each other that she was like a fixture in the room. The white layer on top broke the illusion, even with the gold caduceus emblazoned on top. Around her neck was a stiff, wide scarf that framed the caduceus in the middle of her chest. The black and gold cloth depicted two identical serpents, both facing outwards.

(“Hold on,” I had interrupted, “What the fuck is a caduceus?” She stretched open my palm and drew the shape with a finger. “That tickles.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was wide when I brushed my lips against her cheek for a brief moment. “It’s the symbol they use for medicine now. You see them in doctors’ offices and stuff. Or ambulances or whatever.” She traced the pattern again; I stifled a giggle. “It’s one of those symbols associated with a Greek or Roman god. I don’t know for sure, but it’s probably someone important, right? I think the two snakes represent something. Balance or harmony or love or whatever.”)

The weirdest thing of all was the body in the corner.

The vaguely human shaped specter made up of holographic lines and miniscule spherical joints did not have a face, but when it spoke—its voice the monotonous, deep sound of grinding gears—its red vectors lit up into brighter shades. “An anomaly has been detected in the High Priestess’s biorhythms,” the specter spoke without emotion. “Error: cause of confusion cannot be undetected. Error: processing failure. Red Room detected. Bypassing anomalies. Please state your command, High Priestess.”

Wheein stared.

“Please state your command, High Priestess.”

Wheein backed away until her legs hit the edge of her bed. “W-what are you?”

“I am the Voice of the Prophet Tiresias, your loyal servant and companion.” The red vectors blinded her, but they blinked on—bright, red, and oblivious. “You have three hours and seventeen minutes and forty-six seconds remaining in the Red Room. Would you like to repent your sins to the Prophet?”

Wheein’s response was immediate: “Um, no.”

“The Prophet is watching. You have SIX tasks to complete today. The Prophet is watching.”

Wheein frowned, squinting into the bright red light. “Do you have settings or something? Can you change shape and voice and stuff? This is freaking me out a bit. A lot.”

The shapeless vectors split into a thousand spherical particles. “Command registered,” the voice said. The floating particles blinked in unison. “Please state your preferences.”

“Uh, what about a cat?” The little orbs flew around and rearranged themselves into a new shape. Two lopsided triangles formed the ears on a triangular head and triangular body. It wasn’t the most realistic, but it was far better than the stiff, humanoid blob.

Its little body lit when it spoke. “Would you like to keep this form?”

“I guess that’s fine,” Wheein said, cringing at the array of triangles approaching her. This was quite possibly one of the only cats in Wheein’s entire existence across time and space that she had zero desire to pet.

The red cat thing sat by her bed expectantly, its ears spinning like tops on its axes. Wheein stepped back to peer through the thin slots in the red, metal door. There was a dark hallway outside, but she couldn’t make anything out. She tried the knob—

The cat thing leapt up in front of her, its molecules shooting away from each other to form a red fist against her outstretched hand. “ERROR: YOU HAVE THREE HOURS AND FIFTEEN MINUTES AND FIFTY-TWO SECONDS REMAINING. Please back away. Electric door activated. Please back away. Please back away.” The fist pushed against her further and further until her knees hit the side of her bed. She sat, holding out both hands now to feebly fight against the fist.

“Please stop pushing me,” she said, flailing back against the heavy weight. Just like that the red fist unfurled its molecules and transformed back into a cat.

“Would you like to repent your sins?” The cat asked again.

Wheein sighed deeply. “What are my sins?”

“Thou shalt remain pure,” the Voice recited solemnly, “thou shalt not lay with another. High Priestess Jung Wheein: lechery of the first degree...July 18th, 3217. Zero-five-hundred hours. Arrested in the bed of Ahn Hyejin, Handmaiden, for crimes against your position. Thou shalt remain pure. Thou shalt not lay with another.”

Wheein swore quietly. “W-what...Hyejin? Where am I? Where is Hyejin?”

“Colony 77,” the cat thing responded with rolling tones like a radio announcer. “Known for our lush landscape, our flourishing nostalgic First Earth flavours, and economic power. Colony 77 is a universal leader in culture, morality, and justice.”

“...Right. And Hyejin?”

“Ahn Hyejin, Handmaiden to the Master. Arrested for treason. Tried for crimes against our sacred culture. Convicted. Ahn Hyejin has been sentenced to life as a Provider. Does the High Priestess have further inquiries?”

Wheein said nothing as she tried to take it all in. Fear crept in through the hair on her neck, and she shivered as she thought of me.

(“I...was so...angry. And sad. And I don't even know what else,” she confessed later. “But, like you said, it was like I could feel you? Even though I couldn't see you, it was like…”

“If you were standing behind me quietly and I didn't have to turn around to know it's you?”

“Yes…just like that.”)

“Anger detected: the High Priestess must repent.”

“What happens if I don’t do the six tasks or whatever?”

“The Red Room awaits all who disobey.”

“But...I'm already in it.”

“Time is immaterial. The Prophet is eternal.”

Wheein shivered, and didn't ask for elaboration.

She spent the remainder of her sentence figuring out the world and her tasks, which varied between singing to composing to dancing about her love for the Prophet. There didn’t seem to be real responsibilities despite the fancy title (at least not while she was in the Red Room). In between her creative punishments, she tried to dig more information out of the Voice. But not knowing the right questions to ask, she just ended up triggering more repetitious phrases that soon began to grate on her nerves.

In the last hour, she simply laid on her bed and thought of better things.

(“Y’know, like going to the beach with you,” she told me. “Or anything, really. I just wanted to be close to you again.”)

Her sentence ended with a gentle, electronic buzz that echoed inside the narrow room. The red door exhaled, then slid open. Freedom. Sort of.

“Please follow me,” the red vectors said in a veiled command. “Uncertainty detected. Do not attempt resistance.”

“Sure,” Wheein murmured, “I wouldn't even know where to begin anyway. Also, can you please stop announcing my emotions?”

“Unauthorized access. Command unavailable. Would you like to issue a different command?”

Wheein sighed. “No thanks.”

When she stepped out of the room and into the corridor, the world was bright. Not the blinding, sterile kind of bright, but the yellow blaze of the sun through the windows washed over everything it touched. Even the window, tinted slightly in red (or orange in some retellings) gave the walls and the floors a warm, autumn feeling.

Outside, green hills seemed to roll far below her, while the blue skies seemed too close for comfort. Vague dots on the horizon pointed to a village beyond. Wheein squinted at the beautiful, yet simple, two-toned landscape that quickly lost her interest.

Instead, she turned to the paintings.

Portraits of men with tight smiles decorated the walls opposite, but when she looked closer, the faces seemed be progressively more and more feminine. The subject of the first painting by the red room was a square-jawed, broad-shouldered old man, but there was already something undoubtedly feminine about his neighbour, three portraits down. The masquerade, it seemed, began early. Since then, each of the portraits featured handsome, androgynous men in differently coloured suits. Wheein admired them as she walked by, unable to resist the peculiar style of this world.

Wheein has always been drawn to art. She’s wildly talented herself, but there was a time, before all the auditions, that she was just fascinated by the talents before her. I remember tagging along to some of her library excursions and just kind of watching her, or reading manhwa, while she voraciously tore through huge tomes of art history.  
For all the times she’d talk my ear off about it them, I can’t say I ever really understood art. I admit, maybe I was a bit too caught up in my feelings, too busy sighing and making eyes at her, but...also...she once went on for an hour about a brown thing on a glass disc that basically looked like shit on a plate. So, I guess I’m okay with being too dumb to comprehend modern art.

Still, I never would’ve suspected Wheein’s side hobby to be useful at a time like this.

(“Most of them were very Renaissance, but sometimes the colours were really weird...kind of like the, um, what were they called again? The Fauvists?” Wheein explained to me. “Other times you get the texturing of impressionist paintings, or bold curves of art nouveau in what would otherwise be obviously baroque. Anyway, the point is, it kinda seemed like they knew what they were doing...but also didn’t. Like they were learning this stuff like I did, way back, but were either very confused, or very avant garde.”)

But the Voice, as usual, cut off her thoughts: “The High Priestess must not linger. The Master awaits.”

Wheein cringed at the Voice, and made a face at the way its pulsing red body seemed to be studying her without any eyes. Its triangular ear twitched, as if to remind Wheein that it was just a harmless “cat”.

“Hey, V?”

“Inquiry detected. How may I help you, High Priestess?”

“Who are these people?”

“Masters, High Priestess. This hallway contains the history of our colony.”

“Right.”

She stopped, legs frozen to the spot, when the paintings ended abruptly in the middle of the long hall. Her eyes widened at the large frame, the somber black backdrop, and the smiling figure in his lovely periwinkle ascot.

“The High Priestess is admiring our Master,” the Voice stated behind her. “Our Master is beloved by all. Our Master awaits us in his study.”

“His?” Wheein whispered.

“Master Yul awaits us in his study.”

“But this is—”

“Master Yul awaits us in his study.” The Voice sat down on its triangular haunches.

Wheein sighed. “You’re a pretty crappy conversationalist, aren’t you?”

“Master Yul awaits us in his study,” it continued, sitting up now to rearrange its particles into the shape of a glowing red arrow pointing to the end of the hall.

“I know! I just wanted to know—”

“Master Yul awaits us in his study.” The arrow glowed brighter this time.

“Okay, okay! You are really annoying, you know that, V?”

With one last glance at the portrait, she followed the red arrow as it glided across the floor.

The rest of the journey to Yul’s study was uninteresting. The modern wing soon led two hundred steps down a medieval tower and into a big, open foyer with a giant crystal chandelier hanging from an intricately painted ceiling, like a sun in the middle of a Michelangelo-esque skyscape. She followed V up a grand green-carpeted staircase and into a maze of corridors. What must’ve been thirty minutes later, she stood in front of a simple, solid wooden door. A gold plaque, engraved in Hangeul with the word “study” shimmered in the candlelit hall.

Wheein lifted her knuckles to the wood. “Okay, do I just—”

“ANNOUNCING HIGH PRIESTESS JUNG WHEEIN. ANNOUNCING HIGH PRIESTESS JUNG WHEEIN.” Wheein jumped back and glared at V, who folded itself into a crude child’s drawing of a trumpet as it continued blaring its message.

The door swung open, and Wheein stepped inside.

Like everything else in this world it seems, the room was massive. Along the expansive walls were towering bookcases packed neatly and meticulously with books of equal size and differing shades of blues and greens. In one half of the room, a huge holographic globe sat quietly. The globe covered not simply our planet, but galaxies. Thousands upon thousands of galaxies, densely packed into a web of blinking yellow lights and dotted lines.

The living lights transfixed her.

(“It reminded me of you, Hyejiinie,” she later said.

“And why is that?”

I remember I had my fingers through her hair, running through them gently as we laid together. I still remember the flowery scent of her shampoo as her head nestled into my shoulder. Her hands reimagined the globe as it tried to draw out the blinking lights. I even remember the way her collar had flipped inside of her nightshirt, and the way her voice carried into my ear. I remember all this, because it was the moment I realized that it was possible to fall even more in love.

“I saw all those lines across the galaxies and I couldn’t help but think of us. The way we crossed universes to find each other, the way we are here now, after all this time we spent circling around each other. And it reminded me how lucky I am to have found you despite all of these trillions of little lights.”

“You’re the only little light I need, Wheeinie.”

“Aish, so cheesy.”)

And it wasn’t until someone cleared their throat that Wheein was startled out of her reverie.

At the other end of the room was a sturdy oak desk with a thick piece of glass on top. A white-blue scroll, translucent enough for Wheein to see the Hangeul printed on one side, floated above the desk. But she didn’t have time to dwell on this detail as Yul stood up from his seat behind the desk.

Yul looked every bit like his portrait, his burgundy jacket in perfect harmony with the severe shades of his deep red carpet, deep green rug, and monotonous bookshelves.

But his smile was brilliant as he welcomed Wheein’s approach with open enthusiasm. “Ah, Wheein, it’s good to see you again,” he said, sparing a quick glance at V, who had resumed its cat-like shape as it laid in a comfortable pile of red triangles on the carpet. Quiet now, for the first time, in the presence of the Master.

“Byul—” she caught herself and bowed before she could process what was happening. “Master Yul.”

“You’re right on time.” He rounded his desk and strode up to the globe. From his pocket, he produced a slim cylindrical object and waved it to spin the globe around. “The new Handmaiden will be arriving today, and I would like you to come with us as I show her around. As you know, this is the first time we will be hiring off-shore staff, so I think it would be very special if you could join as an expert in religion.”

The globe honed in on one of the blinking dots. A cluster of spheres soon came into view, each with its own label floating above them. Just then, trail of dotted lines, labelled “Freighter 5-77” zoomed across the map and disappeared off the edge.

“Here we are,” Yul said, pointing a laser at a bigger sphere labelled “Colony 77”. The sphere spun innocuously on its axis, a cloudy yellow ball like so many others. “Over here,” he pointed to “Colony 64”, a comparatively smaller sphere on the outskirts of the cluster, “is where our Handmaiden is coming from.”

Wheein hummed and nodded. Yul straightened his back, and turned to her with a quirked brow. “You don't seem phased.”

Wheein blinked. “Should I be?”

“Well, the Council is not happy with me. Their reputation is...an interesting one, after all. I told them it could only benefit us if our values were not so...divided.”

Wheein grappled for words to contribute without seeming too obviously amnesiatic, and thought of the passing freighter. “Is this about...trade?”

She held her breath as Yul pondered the question. “Ultimately, yes,” he said, nodding, “we have always been short a valuable trading partner because of our differences. Our synthetic plant industry could complement their textile industry very well, but we've always had to go through Colony 72 and their ridiculous tariffs. Anyway, I don't want to bore you with all this. The point is, this is our chance to show them who we are, and hopefully come to a beneficial understanding between our two colonies. Hye—No—Someone told me this could only be a good thing for our two colonies, and when I met the candidate, I...think I’m inclined to agree.”

“What do you mean?”

Just then, a voice that sounded a lot like V—who was still motionless on the floor—screeched outside the door.

“ANNOUNCING FOREIGNER FROM COLONY 64. FOREIGNER FROM COLONY 64.”

Yul smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Looks like you'll get to see for yourself soon enough.”

With a wave of the silver cylinder, the door creaked open, and in rolled two silver, limbless robots in white aprons. Their shapes were dramatically curvy, like literal hour glasses gliding in on invisible wheels, and their smooth, featureless faces, like perfect, shining marbles, reflected Wheein’s astonished expression back at her.

They charged in, silent in Yul’s presence, and parted like the Red Sea in perfect unison to reveal a familiar face in unfamiliar dress.

(“I know how much you like Yongsun-unnie,” Wheein added, crossing her arms, “and normally, I’d be...not jealous, but, y’know, she’s usually...pretty and stuff...But this time around, she was really, really cool when she walked in. I think I fell for her.”

“You what?”

“I'm kidding. Sort of.”

“That hot, huh?”

“She was just...cool! Powerful.”

“Powerful?”

Wheein pressed a finger to her chin, and grinned. “You know when I told you about you but not you?”

“Like...me in the diner?”

“Yeah! You were so cool when you came in after we hid Yongsun-unnie. Commanding the room and stuff. But this Yong-sun...she doesn't have to say a thing. Not that you're not the coolest person ever, Hyejinie, but she's probably the second coolest person ever just by breathing.”

I furrowed my brows. “Wheein-ah…”

“You're so cute when you're jealous like this,” she cooed, pinching my cheeks. “But you wouldn't blame me if you saw her, okay?”)

Kim Yongsun was a vision in white leather. Her dress stopped short mid-thigh, but while one shoulder was all smooth, perfect skin, the other carried a bulky, brushed-metal shoulder plate with the head of a panther baring its fangs sculpted on top. Several loops of metal chains fell from her shoulder, across her chest, and to her waist.

But most of all, she was poised, her head held high as she walked in, looking like the absolute opposite of subservience.

Yul placed one hand on his desk and cleared his throat. “Yongsunssi,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “W-Welcome back to Colony 77,” he said. “I hope your journey went well.”

Yongsun’s lips, drawn in a tight line, curved up in a polite smile. “Thank you,” she said simply. “It’s beautiful here. Different.”

“Thank you.” He returned her smile and brushed his hands over his jacket. “And if I may,” he said, taking a brief moment to assess her expectant eyes, “You are looking as beautiful as ever.”

Something flashed in Yongsun’s eyes. Though her smile was pulled taut, and her lips thanked him, there was something in her expression that sucked the air out of the room. Even Wheein felt the urge to apologize.

But Yul stood his ground (for fear of losing his authority more than anything else, I bet), and the awkwardness clouded thicker than smoke. He held her eyes for all of a second before he pointed his attention to Wheein like she was his only sanctuary. “Um, this is our High Priestess. She will be accompanying us on our tour. Hopefully, we will be able to familiarize you with...our ways, before you receive your duties.”

The loop of chains in Yongsun’s shoulder plate jingling gently as she bowed slightly. “Of course. An honour, High Priestess.” 

Wheein blushed.

Yul cleared his throat once more, and tugged at his collar slightly as he pretended to appraise his blue scroll, pretended to be cool and aloof like the little idiot he is. (That was my interpretation of course. Wheein just thought he looked like he was about to piss his pants.)

“Right. Yeah.”

“In that case," Yongsun said, nodding toward the globe like she owned everything the light touches, "as impressed as I am with your map, perhaps we ought to get going.”

“Yes,” Yul said, clearing his throat once more. “Yes, of course.”

That was it. “Yes, of course”: the three little words that changed everything. Yongsun swivelled and marched out of the room, Yul doggedly trailing behind her the same way V would follow Wheein soon after—this scene would set the stage for what was to come.

And even Wheein, with the little she knew then, could sense that something monumental was about to go down, for better or for worse.

And, of course, she was right.

TO BE CONTINUED


End file.
